


A Dawn of Wyverns

by touchreceptors



Category: Code Geass
Genre: (ONLY VERY LOOSELY BASED ON GoT), (but all consensual so don't worry), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Community: cgkinkmemeii, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones AU, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchreceptors/pseuds/touchreceptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exiled across the Narrow Sea, Lelouch agrees to a political marriage with Suzaku, a young shogun whose armies Lelouch must mobilize against the threat of Britannia's invasion. But as promising as their alliance seems to be, Lelouch and Suzaku soon discover that the struggle to find their places in the realm has only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: Three Visits (1)

**Author's Note:**

> So an anon on the kink meme asked if I would be publishing this on AO3 while I was still trying to decide when and how to de-anon myself (aka wait till I've written more so that I can post a really long chapter, or just post what I have right now?) And then I looked at the word count for what I'd already written, and at the upcoming Zero Requiem anniversary, and I figured I might as well officially kick off / commit to this new project as my way of commemorating 7 years of suzalulu ~~hell~~ joy. 
> 
> Happy Zero Requiem Anniversary!
> 
> This work began in response to [a prompt on cgkinkmemeii](http://cgkinkmemeii.livejournal.com/2983.html?thread=4435367) which asked for a Game of Thrones AU with Lelouch as Daenerys and Schneizel as Viserys. However my plotting soon took it in a different direction (from what I know about the series), so while some titles, land names, and roles may seem familiar, those will be the only similarities you can expect to see. Also, this became a monster, but I am determined to try and complete it!
> 
> I've made some very minor edits (nothing crucial) since first posting this on the meme.
> 
> **_A list of warnings/disclaimers before we begin:_**
> 
>   * I have watched the first three seasons of GoT. I've heard of the atrocities that have been happening in the TV adaptation recently, and boy am I glad I quit it long ago. 0/10 would not recommend, and **you do not need to watch it in order to fully appreciate this fic** :D
>   * There will be indulgent borrowing, abuse, and mixing of Japanese/East Asian geographical, historical, and political terms. I will also be borrowing heavily from some other movies and books from the historical/fantasy genres. What I mean is, **this is set in a romanticized fantasy world with no continent or nation called Japan, so please do not expect historical or geographical accuracy!** (with my apologies to the history/geography nerds.) For example: some names and terms have been used for their literal meaning, as is the case with the name "Ashigaru" i.e. "light footed" or "light feet". **This has nothing to do with any specific period in Japanese history, nor the actual foot soldiers from these periods.** Of course I was and am aware that in history, "ashigaru" is the term that refers to said foot soldiers. I have, however, chosen to make it the name of Suzaku's entire clan in this piece, and the clan's soldiers here will be more than just infantry. _Shogun_ here is the title the clan accords to their leader, but similarities with the actual shogunate of Japan's past are mostly superficial, and the position is not meant to be an accurate reflection of how Japan used to be governed. And so on. 
>   * I opted to keep Lelouch male, but since pregnancy was in the source material (Daenerys/Drogo) and since it ended up as part of a catalyst/plot device to get this started, I decided to use omegaverse dynamics as part of the setting. However, **I've made some of my own modifications to the typical aspects of omegaverse in an effort to eliminate the dub-con and make everything more egalitarian.** Google is the friend of the curious, but hopefully you will be able to gather all you need to know from the story itself as it progresses.
>   * Consequentially, mpreg will be present, but it will not be a huge focus of the story, and I have no OCs planned (this may or may not mean what you think it means). 
>   * This fic **does not and will not contain any rape or scenarios involving dubious consent.** There will not be any 'savage race' either; the culture of Suzaku's people will be drastically different from that of the Dothraki.
>   * There may be some _slight_ unrequited Jeremiah/Lelouch if you squint, but I will of course stay true to Suzaku/Lelouch throughout.
>   * I am aware of how much of a white savior Daenerys appears to be, especially in the TV adaptation. I will try my best not to make Lelouch one. He will probably be... more of a catalyst than anything else, and there are still lessons that he will have to learn before the story ends.
> 

> 
> * * *

**Part I: Three Visits (1)**

  
"This is unexpected." Lelouch greets Schneizel personally at the entrance to the inner compound. There is a carriage which has stopped outside the Ashford residence, visible from his window. It bears no insignia of the Second Prince - an indication that Schneizel is not in the area on official business for Britannia, or wishes to pass through relatively unnoticed - but Lelouch can recognize the arrival of his brother when he sees it. The Ashfords are not expecting any other visitors today.  
  
Schneizel smiles mildly, removing his hat so the afternoon sun glints briefly off fair hair before he steps in alone. "It's good to see you too, brother." He spares a nod to the attendant who collects his cloak as well. "Keeping well, I see, since our last meeting."  
  
Lelouch turns to lead back into the house. "Well as I can be." They pass Jeremiah, guarding faithfully from a small distance, lowered eyes and spine angled smooth and disciplined in reverence to their visitor.  
  
Even in these parts, it is not uncommon knowledge that the Prime Minister of Westeros at times acts in his own capacity towards ends which may or may not be aligned with the Emperor's will. Either way, their father, head of the ruling and most powerful house in Westeros, does not seem to notice. It is more likely, of course, that Charles zi Britannia has simply chosen thus far not to concern himself with such troubles, allowing Schneizel free rein to play his own games even in this region, while political tensions continue to mount. Lelouch wonders if this is the reason for Schneizel's visit now. Calling upon Lelouch occasionally after Lelouch's exile across the Narrow Sea six years ago seems to be another thing Schneizel has managed to do without repercussions - though Lelouch has never believed these visits to be borne, at least not purely, out of genuine concern for his well-being or a desire to keep him entertained with chess and conversations about Britannia's latest affairs.  
  
But in Essos, good chess opponents are difficult to come by, and Schneizel did assist him and Jeremiah in locating the Ashfords back when he had chosen his severance from the palace, so Lelouch finds it in himself to welcome his visits all the same.  
  
Schneizel's presence is one reason why it is difficult for many here to forget that Lelouch was once a Britannian prince even though the title and its authority are no longer his to keep. Lelouch, however, does not mind so much at times like these, when Milly's two house-servants immediately bring tea and a second chair to the sitting room that he arrives at, and when his request once he and Schneizel are seated is heeded without delay. "Leave us."  
  
Lelouch sets down the chessboard and the pieces without being asked, leaving Schneizel to pour the tea and open the game. He does not make this a habit merely because Schneizel has always favored white; with Schneizel Lelouch has always preferred the added security of a chance to analyze his intentions should the opening tone provide any revelations. It is the same both in game and in conversation.   
  
Schneizel makes his move. "I trust you have already guessed what brought me here."  
  
Lelouch has guessed. Three months ago, Kamine Island fell to Britannian attack, a seizure no doubt launched on leaked information that half of the Ashigaru's nearby reinforcement troops were away helping to open a new sakuradite mine on Ashigaru territory further inland. Caught between humiliating defeat and sending his remaining soldiers to fight to the death against Britannia's wildfire, the clan head Kururugi Genbu instead chose suicide, leaving remaining clan leadership with no other immediate option but surrender. Genbu's suicide is not, however, the curious news. Only Kamine Island was seized; the rest of Ashigaru land was not.  
  
Lelouch leans back in his chair and watches Schneizel counter his pawn's move. "You don't know it either, do you? The reason why Britannia seems interested only in Kaminejima, and presumably its sakuradite. For now."  
  
"Indeed. If it is ultimately another additional sakuradite resource that the Emperor wants, this would appear to have been a foolish move."  
  
' _The Emperor_ ', he says, and not ' _our father_ '; Schneizel has always known, since the events surrounding Marianne's death, never to refer to him as such in Lelouch's presence - one of the small measures of sincerity and respect offered to Lelouch, at the least. At most, it may well be by now that Schneizel too has entirely stopped referring to the Emperor as such.  
  
Charles spends a significant amount of time now locked away in the towers of Pendragon. Not even Schneizel has knowledge of what his plans may be. Even now, they can only speculate on the apparent motives behind the siege of Kamine - Essos is richer in sakuradite than the entire land of Westeros ever was, and though much of it is found in the mountainous regions under jurisdiction of the Ashigaru and its sister clans, there are other sources of the prized fuel which could have been explored to feed Britannia's growing need. Instead Britannia has seemingly provoked the ire of one of the most influential clans in the region - at present also the clan believed to possess the biggest potential for resistance against Britannia's imminent encroachment on Essos.   
  
Unlike Kawaguchi and Shikine, the two smaller nearby islands occupied by sister clans which have also fallen to Britannian rule in the recent years, Ashigaru territory extends beyond Kamine and Edo, right up to the Narita mountains and slightly further north-east. The people there are so named for their highly skilled and light-footed soldiers, and also the small-boned red elk native to their mountains, tamed ones of which are said to be noble steeds swifter and nimbler than horses. Given such circumstances, Britannia could not also have hoped to conquer them whole with the same amount of force that took Kawaguchi and Shikine, even if only half the Ashigaru troops had been at hand. Yet all reports say that Kamine Island was surrendered to troops no more than three thousand strong, numbers which clearly indicate there was no intention to press further and suppress all of Ashigaru's threat against the Britannian Empire's ambitions, wildfire ammunition or no. To most onlookers it is a mercy for the clan to have been caught by surprise and still be spared so much; to Lelouch and Schneizel it is a strangely missed opportunity on Britannia's part - and foolish, indeed, if Britannia has thought this enough to intimidate the Ashigaru from future aggression.  
  
"What did you find?" Lelouch asks, failing to keep his curiosity at bay now that it is clear Schneizel came to probe for other possible motivations behind the attack.   
  
Schneizel's mouth sets in a thin line as he shakes his head, and Lelouch knows his answer is in earnest. "Nothing that has led me to any other conclusions, for the time being." He folds his hands and eases into a smile. "But during my travels I found something else which I think may work in your favor."  
  
In the second's pause that follows, Lelouch feels the events, words, and implications slide into alignment in his mind and realizes,  _knows_  what is coming next.  _Shogun_  Kururugi Genbu has only one immediate successor - a son likely around Lelouch's own age and most probably an alpha. The Ashigaru have something resembling a democratic system where the families occupying the government posts are rotated every once in awhile based on supposed divine blessing and the people's mandate, but given that no change of hands has seemed necessary in the near future and given the unexpected lurch Genbu has left them in, leadership has likely fallen now to the only heir, who - if the lack of news in these parts regarding the continuation of the Kururugi line is anything to go by - is unmated and himself heirless.  
  
Across the table Schneizel says with calm, "Ashigaru knows now that it has been complacent to ignore Britannia's growing thirst for power, or at least to hope blindly in its ability to withstand an invasion. But to have no successors for the new  _shogun_  does not bode well for them in now uncertain times, especially since divine mandate is still upon the Kururugi house... or so I understand." His eyes fix directly on Lelouch's. "I picked up word that Kururugi's council is somewhat anxious now to have him mated - to one of House Britannia, no less, based on some vision granted to their Oracle. What it is, I do not know in detail, but... counterintuitive as their desired course of action may seem for now, I thought it a splendid opportunity."  
  
"...For me," Lelouch says, terse, obvious though the answer already is to him.  
  
"Would there be anyone else, dear brother? I took the liberty of sending them an offer on your behalf - anonymously, of course."  
  
Lelouch does not need to hear what the response from Ashigaru was. That Schneizel is visiting now to tell him this is confirmation enough. And in that moment it is difficult not to feel a surge of anger at his own helplessness in everything that has just been sprung upon him, even if he can also already see the merits of going along with such a proposal. To think, of all things, that an exiled Britannian Prince is who the Ashigaru want to welcome into their leadership. There may be some sense to be found there - but the irony is no less.  
  
He feels rather than sees himself withdraw his fingers before their tips can graze the crown of his queen, his chest tight. Out loud, Lelouch holds his voice steady and says, "There is nothing I have that any other woman or omega male cannot give."  
  
A small attempt at questioning Schneizel's initiative. Strictly speaking, pregnancies among alpha females and even alpha and beta males are not unheard of, though they are uncommon, and it is only logical that all omegas and beta women tend to be favored partners in political unions where heirs are a consideration, owing to the more suited nature of their heat cycles and body types toward successful conception. Omega though Lelouch may be, however, there are only two comprehensible reasons why the Ashigaru would benefit from an alliance with one of royal Britannian blood: The first, his inside knowledge of Britannian warfare, of its tactics, the dragons and the wildfire, of Pendragon's fortresses and exploitable weaknesses in a pre-emptive attack. The second --  
  
"No," Schneizel returns in agreement. "But you  _are_  Marianne's firstborn, and last of any of the lines that an egg given by C.C. has hatched for."  
  
_Ganymede_. For the briefest of moments there is a tender memory that resurfaces. His mother's dragon had been a deep blue, scales like the sunlight glittering across the ocean's surface, a low rumble that had soon become as comforting and familiar as his mother's voice, a solid fortress with a gentle snout and a warm breath that he could curl up against while spending late afternoons reading in the gardens. A form that had never been very big, but was gargantuan and almighty in a young child's eyes. He breathes in and the memory vanishes, the same way the dragon did after his mother's death.  
  
"The fact that C.C. favored my mother is no guarantee that she will appear for me."  
  
"Even so." Schneizel smiles, smooth and undeterred. "It seems even Kururugi's council recognizes that a little hope can go a long way in strengthening a people's resolve."  
  
Lelouch finds little humor in his own laugh. "An army to oppose Britannia, in exchange for my commitment as a mate and the mere hope that I bring dragons to fight fire with fire." It is not entirely baseless, given that C.C. had a penchant for physically appearing at certain new beginnings in Marianne's life - once, after her engagement, and another time, after Nunnally's birth - but out of all this one thing, at least, is clear. "You do have Pendragon's throne in sight, after all."  
  
“You assume that my ambitions have carried me that far when much is still uncertain to us.” Schneizel lowers his tea from his lips, still smiling evenly. “The Prime Minister has a duty to all of Westeros to keep the peace and order, or at least, to restore it. But you know as well as I do that the paths toward accomplishing this are limited, things being what they are. The change may need to come from the outside.” His eyes consider the lack of movement on the chessboard before returning to Lelouch’s. “Whatever the case, you have my full assurance that in this matter, our interests align. And I think you’ll find it difficult to deny how this arrangement is useful to both of us."  
  
That much can hardly be argued with. Whether or not Schneizel’s pursuits are mainly for personal gain, even the Prime Minister’s opposition to Charles can only be taken so far.  
  
And for the six years since Nunnally succumbed to the frailties of her weakened body, the six years since he - in a fit of immature rage - confronted the man who fathered him and declared that he would no longer have any part in Britannia's oppressive rule, Lelouch has observed and waited. Waited for a chance, a route to pursue - any opportunity to be built upon that will aid in seeking answers and vengeance for his mother's and sister's deaths, and in crippling the current Britannian system, directly or otherwise. For six years no potential seeds he found ever came to fruition, but now here one is, ready and almost tailor-made with little need for maneuvering on his part.  
  
"Be that as it may." Lelouch cannot help the bitter taste forming on his tongue, cannot help the biting accusation that makes it out of his mouth despite knowing better than to ask. "Is this what I am to you? Some pawn to be traded in your game of thrones?"  
  
"You know I think more highly of you than that, brother." Schneizel either has enough decency left in him to look concerned, or makes a show of that as well. With him such things have never been certain. "And I would not have proposed anything had I thought I would find you strongly disagreeable. Kururugi and some of his men will be arriving tomorrow for you to discuss your terms with them. He is young - good-looking, if word of mouth is to be believed, and as I'm sure you were already aware." Schneizel slides his chair back and stands to leave, giving him a small smile. "It may be that your coming together is destined, after all."  
  
"I will be the final judge of that." Lelouch manages to keep a lip from curling in response. Schneizel owes him that much. "Lord Kururugi meets with me alone."  
  
His brother lets out a soft sigh, as if to emphasize how indulgent he finds the demand. "Very well, Lelouch. I hope you see to it that my efforts were not in vain."  
  
Lelouch rises to see him to the door, and their chess game is left still in its early stages, untouched since Lelouch wavered over moving his queen.

* * *

  
  
The Ashfords have a pleasant garden, nowhere near as large as the ones of Pendragon's Aries Villa, but a fitting echo of it all the same. This is the place that feels closest to his childhood home, where memories of Marianne's laughter and Nunnally tackling him into the grass are relived the easiest. Blossoms native to Westeros flower in neatly trimmed clusters and in different bright and pastel colors; birdsong and a constant, soft trickle of water from the fountain are often the only sounds gracing the atmosphere. Here Lelouch came, often in the few months following his exile, to calm his rage and soothe the aching loss Nunnally left when she, too, had passed. It was here that the turbulence within eventually stilled to form a new resolve - new answers to seek and a new path to pursue, and it is here that Lelouch finds himself now, to clear his mind over Schneizel's latest proposition.  
  
Marianne vi Britannia's body was found - on a lazy afternoon such as this when she had for unknown reasons asked her guards to stand down - collapsed in a heap over Nunnally's stricken form on the stairs, stabbed and bled to death from what Lelouch later determined was the work of slash harkens. He was dragged, kicking and screaming, from the scene he'd discovered by Cornelia - early enough so that it haunted him only in nightmares. Nunnally was not so fortunate, having suffered similar wounds to her legs before Marianne had presumably tried to shield her daughter, and having witnessed the whole event - a trauma which caused her to refuse to open her eyes even long after it had passed. Later she managed to convey that their assailants had emerged suddenly from the shadows, cloaked and masked, but she was unable to either recall or speak of anything more.  
  
Lelouch was ten years old when that had happened; Nunnally - sweet and precious and his only full sibling - only seven. For the first few months after the incident she fought her own nightmares and demons and won, emerging from it all with smiles that still carried the same selfless warmth they once had. Nunnally had great strength of heart, but the attack left her blinded and crippled, stripped of her earlier exuberance due to her frailer condition, and two years later an illness that started in the diminished lower half of her body eventually consumed her and took her from him, too.  
  
Till this day it is not clear who or what was behind the attack, though there are several possibilities that Lelouch has considered, over and over. Marianne, like her firstborn, was an omega, though that in and of itself was not the likely cause of the jealousy of the other imperial consorts, many of whom were also omegas with strident personalities in their own right. Charles reportedly never bonded with any of his consorts, but he seemed especially fond of Marianne - Marianne of the commoner family Lamperouge. A commoner with spirit and skill which she had used to rise in rank, who even had the bearer C.C.'s favor and who thought nothing of bringing Ganymede crashing into one of the Imperial gardens to ensure her children would never be bullied twice. So close was she with her dragon, too, that she was one of the few esteemed riders - a feat rarely accomplished by one who was not already a Knight of the Round.  
  
Beyond the palace, as Lelouch soon found once he started searching for answers, more possibilities abounded. Britannia was a house once blessed with healthy dragon hatchlings; indeed, long had the dragon been the symbol of their house. When Charles had ascended the throne, he had embarked on a quest to unite the remaining lands of Westeros not already under Britannian control, and though some houses had agreed with the idea of a centralized government, the many who resisted had been tyrannized and forced to surrender nonetheless to the might of Britannia's dragon fire.  
  
In the Britannian Empire those with power and wealth rule and control those without. This was the philosophy that was, with worsening conditions on the streets, finally starting to breed deep discontent even among several of their own commoners, and the same philosophy that the Emperor spat into his face the day his sister's hand slipped lifeless from his own, when he stormed into the throne room demanding an explanation for Charles' inaction on the part of both Marianne's death and Nunnally's.  
  
Impudence and open criticism of his father's methods earned him banishment away from the shelter of the palace walls and the other siblings he loved, though with the pulling of a few strings Schneizel managed to put him in contact with the Ashfords - a house on friendly terms with his mother's and the beneficiaries of her goodwill when they had relocated to Essos to act as middlemen for the rich amount of trade that went on between both regions. They have been doing well since, and are not the only settlers from Westeros in the area, so much so that the house's matriarch-to-be, Milly Ashford, was until recent events drafting plans to start a school for Westerosi children.  
  
Milly is all but two years ahead of him in age, bright eyes and light colored hair of undeniable Westerosi heritage that almost bounces when she walks. Never once has she not had a fond smile ready for him, though today it is touched with empathy when he tells her briefly of what is to come. Like him, Milly is no stranger to the rising tensions in the region. Nor does she fail to comprehend the weight of his decision, and so when she takes his hands in hers and grasps them tight, it is fierce and warm and oddly reassuring.   
  
"If there is anything we can do to help - you only have to send me word."  
  
"Thank you," Lelouch says to her softly, squeezing her hands in return and remembering, not for the first time, why he considers Milly thus far one of his only real friends in Essos.  
  
Milly gives him one more smile, encouraging, before she leaves him to the garden entrance, disappearing down the marbled hallway with the gauze of her skirt trailing behind her.   
  
He listens to the soft whispers of her dress fabric and thinks of the sound of his own mother's footsteps, and now Lelouch closes his eyes, breathes in deeply the faint scent of roses and wisteria and pine.  
  
In his heart he knows already the path that he will most likely choose. Britannia must be stopped - changed, for the gentler, fairer world Nunnally wanted, there is no better opportunity that will ever come by, and if Lelouch is honest with himself it is hardly a reluctance to take a mate that is troubling him - No, it is his pride, wounded at the knowledge of Schneizel's hand in this and concerned with respect to the true nature of his brother's plans. Britannia's Second Prince has never been easy to read, not even to Lelouch.  
  
To be bearing heirs would be another concern - to become a mother before any of his goals are achieved would make death in battle far less desirable, limit the number of compromises he can make at short notice.  
  
But with a military strength as formidable as the Ashigaru's, there is a lot more that can be done in return, and if Schneizel should come to pose a new threat, there will be ways to deal with that as well. Which now leaves only one other person's wishes Lelouch will want to consider.  
  
He beckons to Jeremiah, who is standing guard by the entrance back into the house. Inconspicuous, but ever watchful and alert, and he arrives promptly to kneel by Lelouch's feet in the pavillon, a knight's bow.  
  
"Your Grace."  
  
"Sir Jeremiah," Lelouch nods at him so that he may rise, and absentmindedly ends up letting go of the railing and mirroring the stance that Jeremiah assumes, clasping his hands behind his back as he gazes out at the greenery. "Indulge me in this and answer me honestly - if you had the chance to choose all over again, would you still come with me, and leave Pendragon behind?"  
  
Jeremiah was eight when he first heard of Marianne's prowess as a knight, or so he has told Lelouch - he was ten when she became the fifth Empress and when he offered himself for training in guard duty, hoping to follow in her footsteps, twelve when Lelouch was born, fifteen when he was knighted and assigned to her personal unit. Marianne inspired admiration and devotion in no small number of people, and Jeremiah lived worthy of his title as a knight, standing steadfast by her children even in the wake of her death. When Lelouch was exiled, several were sympathetic, but an open show of support would have carried certain risk for many. Among the siblings dearer to him, Cornelia had her post as Commander of the Royal Guard and her sister Euphemia to worry about, Schneizel already had his own games and politics, Clovis, though he usually meant well, was always too self-absorbed. Only Jeremiah had nothing to lose, remaining faithfully by Lelouch's side ever since choosing to follow him over the Narrow Sea.  
  
Now his oldest friend, aide and counsel answers him in a single breath, soft, but no less sincere. "I'd do it all again in a heartbeat."  
  
Lelouch turns to look at him again, at shoulders held straight and proud and all the affection in eyes etched with the beginnings of careworn lines, and thinks then that Jeremiah looks old, now - old from all the years dedicated to Marianne and then to him, old from having lived no other life besides one of loyalty and service.  
  
"It is a true honor," Lelouch holds out a hand to him in gratitude even as he knows he can never repay the debt he owes, "to have had your unconditional devotion all these years." When Jeremiah takes his hand he tells him softly, "I do not ask for you to follow me, if I should go along with what Schneizel has proposed. And I will release you if that is what you wish."  
  
There is a new life Jeremiah can start, after all, even if he too can no longer return to Britannia. But it is the same now as it was six years ago when he left the palace. If Jeremiah were wearing his old cloak Lelouch imagines that the man would have swept it aside before kneeling to kiss his knuckles, but even without it the gesture and the words that follow are no less solemn and official. "There is nowhere my Lord can go that I will not follow - not if my Lord desires me with him."  
  
Lelouch releases a silent breath, something like relief and a deep fondness stirring in his chest. "Then I will appeal on your behalf when I meet the lord shogun tomorrow." He smiles in acceptance of Jeremiah's declaration, and the Knight returns to his feet. "Nevertheless, I don’t think them likely to refuse."  
  
"You intend to accept the arrangement, then?"  
  
"We both already know that Kururugi is no brute." Lelouch smiles wryly; by the few reports so far it sounds like he would make a suitable enough mate, though Lelouch will still have to assess him for himself when they meet. No attempt at pair bonding while uncertain or insecure would be successful, in any case. "As long as the other terms we can agree on are favorable, I expect that I will make my offer."  
  
He folds his arms over the railing to look out again at the garden, enveloped now in a warm glow by the beginnings of sunset, and when he speaks into it he feels as though he has already convinced himself.   
  
"The better choice is all there is to it."

 

* * *

 

 

A dream, Kaguya says. It is a dream that visited her, a fortnight after the surrender of Kaminejima, of his fire bird and a dragon encircled and weaving in a dance before merging to give rise to a wyvern, its flamed wings glowing bright and glorious. _Victorious._  The message is clear. For the next generation of the Kururugi line Suzaku must take a mate from the Britannian house; for their people to triumph in the impending war against Britannia, he must find a way to ally with their very enemy itself.  
  
The notion is ludicrous, at first, but Kaguya is not one to speak lightly of such matters. And Suzaku is youthful, but no longer the young heir, the  _seishi_  who can leave the monumental decisions to his father and his future responsibilities to the next day. As fate would have it, the night he chose to oppose his father's decision was the very night he became the Ashigaru's new _shogun_.  
  
And when a messenger sends word that confirms an old rumor, word that says Britannia's eleventh prince has indeed been in exile in Essos for the last few years, and is willing to discuss an alliance, things begin to make more sense. For even in the east there have long been whispers of why the eleventh prince was banished, of who his mother was and of her skill with Britannia's winged beasts.  
  
So they send word in return and Suzaku sets out for the meeting, bringing with him only Tohdoh and Kouzuki so that they may travel less conspicuously. His mentor and teacher and his best captain will be enough, at least for this journey where they will go as a show of goodwill, as recognition that in light of recent events it would currently be more dangerous for one of Britannian standing to come to them instead.   
  
Yokosuka, where the Ashford residence is, is a day's journey on foot - far enough that it is better to ride but near enough that three Ashigaru on elk can pass easily as travelers who are in the port area for business matters.  
  
Of course, should the Prince agree and should they marry, word of the union will nonetheless spread eventually. For now, though, precautions are still wise, and they wear their hoods and cut through the forests where they can, lest their faces be recognized. He leads first, careful to watch their surroundings and terrain for irregularities even as the ground rushes underfoot.  
  
Prior to Kaminejima's fall, Suzaku had only recently begun to consider his marriage. There is no strict rule against taking others to the bed before a marriage or a soul bonding, as long as those who lie together have drunk of the appropriate herbs to moderate the reactions and heats of their bodies, so he has had a few partners, though none that he would consider lovers. The probability that he would have to take a mate for political purposes has always been clear, given his standing. For a time it was said that it would be Kaguya, his distant cousin from the Sumeragi line and now their Oracle, but nothing was ever made certain, and neither were the few other names that were ever spoken of. He supposes it is fortunate, that there is no promise of betrothal he will have to suddenly go back on given this new turn of events.  
  
But ultimately it will not matter now even if that were the case.   
  
If his people are looking to him, and if the vision is to be believed, then Suzaku must be prepared. If he was prepared to take matters into his own hands, Tohdoh told him that night - if he was prepared to decide for their people what was best for them - then he must do what is necessary to reassure them and continue leading them down that path.  
  
Suzaku does not think himself wrong (his father was proud, determined and a strong leader - but stubborn and foolish too, in his own way), but he does hope that the Prince will at least be likable, and reasonable in his terms. Rumors have spoken only of the Prince being a beauty much like his mother, and it is not known exactly what his motives against Britannia are. By now, the launch of a counterattack seems inevitable for them, if they can find a suitable opening before they are attacked again - but Suzaku also does not want unnecessary bloodshed under his leadership. To be  _shogun_  is also to guard, nurture, protect - and fire may be a part of his namesake, a dangerous weapon in battle - but Suzaku thinks, too, of wings ablaze with life,  _hope_  - and knows that it cannot only bring death.  
  
Yokosuka is a town with streets busier than their own, being one of the biggest ports between the two lands divided by the Narrow Sea. The lanes are narrower than they are in Edo, and Suzaku has to maneuver his elk through a few of them to get to the outskirts, Kallen and Tohdoh following close behind. He sees Kallen's lip curl in disgust once at the stares of some merchants by the roadside, not that they would notice it from the shadows of her hood. There are a few here who are unscrupulous and would waste no time making a tidy sum out of the fine horns on Tohdoh's elk if a chance is ever presented to them. The return journey will be more dangerous if they are followed - but it is pure folly for any poacher to try their darts and luck against an Ashigaru soldier's blades, especially Kallen's.  
  
The Ashford residence is found at the town's edges where there is more space, immediately distinguishable by way of its foreign architecture - stone walls, large, curved arches and fine iron gates. It is perhaps unsurprising that even in exile, the Prince has managed to find refuge in such a place.  
  
A woman meets them at the entrance, with a fine silk gown that falls to her ankles and blond hair in soft curls around her shoulders. Suzaku thinks that this must be Milly Ashford, heir to the fortune of the Ashford house.  
  
They remove their hoods and dismount before entering the gates, a mark of respect, and she returns the small inclination of his head that he gives her in greeting. Her eyes twinkle when she smiles, warm in her welcome. "I'll let him know you've arrived," she says, after guiding them behind the walls to the inner compound, and disappears back into the house.  
  
The common tongue in all of Westeros is Britannian, and all but a few here have learnt it in addition to their own dialects of Yayoi ever since trade started developing between the two lands. It is said that not all Westerosi are as familiar yet with the eastern tongues, though the settlers here are certainly expected to be, at least in the common Yayoi speech from which all other eastern tongues are said to descend. The Prince will likely be fluent enough by now not to have any trouble adapting quickly to Ashigaru, if he has indeed spent somewhere over five years in the area - although the message was initially delivered in Britannian, and Milly's greeting in the same.  
  
She emerges some moments later with two men behind her, one about his age of eighteen and dressed simple but smart in a loose blouse tucked into slacks, and the taller one - judging not just from his more formal wear but from the way he carries himself and immediately assesses Suzaku's traveling party - his guard. They walk down the few steps to meet Suzaku and his military commanders upfront, three against three.  
  
"I present," Milly says, taking a step back for emphasis, "Lelouch vi Britannia, firstborn of Empress Marianne Lamperouge and former Eleventh Prince of Westeros. As well as Sir Jeremiah of the noble house Gottwald."  
  
Suzaku bows, deeper this time, so do his commanders.   
  
"This is our lord Suzaku of the Ashigaru's Kururugi line." Tohdoh does their introductions. "I speak humbly as General Tohdoh Kyoshirou, and with us is High Captain Kouzuki Kallen."  
  
Lelouch and Jeremiah bow in turn, elegant and precise with one arm behind each of their backs. As they straighten Lelouch lifts his eyes to his and the intensity of his gaze is enough to cause an average onlooker to reflexively turn away. Suzaku does not, though he has to keep himself from drawing too sharp a breath as he meets him for it.  
  
The prince is dark-haired, slender with refined features, noticeably Westerosi only by his too-fair skin and the striking violet of his eyes, framed by lashes somehow darker still. He is almost exactly Suzaku's height - perhaps taller by only an inch. In the single, brief moment that passes Suzaku can sense that he is being given a silent once-over as well, and cannot help but feel pleased when the prince's gaze shifts into one of clear approval. They have dressed smartly for the occasion too of course, underneath light armor and their riding cloaks, and he is aware of the praise often sung about his physique and how he has his mother's face - but it is a compliment nonetheless, to have impressed.  
  
"I apologize for making you travel all this way." Lelouch opens cordially with fluent, perfect Yayoi.  
  
"It's a small matter. Please do not trouble yourself over it." Suzaku offers a smile, and the tension of their initial evaluation is finally eased. No immediate threat is pricking at his instinct, and he does not need to look to know that behind him, Kallen and Tohdoh have not sensed any danger either.  
  
So when Lelouch inclines his chin toward a path down the garden and asks, "Shall we? They can watch us from here," Suzaku nods to his guards and they stand down willingly. He removes his katana from his waist in a display of trust, delivering it with both hands into Tohdoh's waiting ones, and Lelouch, who is not visibly armed, nods at Jeremiah to stand down as well.  
  
"...If I may," Suzaku motions to his elk, resting a hand on her reins and looking to both Milly and Lelouch for permission. It is the Ashford's grass that Asa will graze on if he brings her for a walk with the Prince. But it would be better to have her along for good measure - in Ashigaru, possession of a tamed elk is known to warm many a potential partner's heart, and though Suzaku doesn't know yet if Lelouch is such a person, it will be good to see how well he takes to her, at least, and she to him.  
  
Milly smiles and nods, and Asa, who has been waiting patiently behind him until now, nibbles his ear in response to the attention. Suzaku ducks deftly out of her reach, scratching her nose in gentle reproach before taking her reins and leading her to where Lelouch is now waiting. The prince gives them a smile. "Come."  
  
They walk in silence for awhile, Asa pawing and nibbling at the grass close by him. There are a fair number of flowers and shrubs here that he has never seen near the mountains, and in the time that it takes to observe them Suzaku also determines that Lelouch is waiting for him to speak first.  
  
So he does, delicately and this time in Britannian. "It would seem you have a pleasant life here. Why offer yourself as a shogun's mate?" In this case it will mean, after all, that Lelouch will have to join the Kururugi house, become  _Midai_  of the Ashigaru people and adapt to their way of life.  
  
Lelouch's smile is dry. "Charles Britannia seems to fear being overtaken if he doesn't first conquer. For the last fifty years the kingdom of Britannia has been obsessed with taking what it can with its strength, while the weak are cast aside and trampled underfoot. For such reasons my mother's death was ignored and little concern was given to my sister before her own passing. And these are the same reasons why the Emperor seems to have his sights now set on Essos. If I can help you prevent them from seizing more of your lands, and have vengeance for my mother's and sister's deaths, then I will."  
  
He says it as if it is the only logical thing to do. He knows enough about what the rumors surrounding his tragedy speak of, then. Suzaku wonders how bitter he must have been when he was first banished - all for opposing a system which was clearly unfair. "I am sorry for your loss."  
  
Lelouch only smiles again, though less harsh this time. "What of yourself? Must it be only Britannian royalty that you wed?"  
  
Suzaku laughs a little. "Well, no, I wouldn't put it that way." He still has enough authority to refuse, if he is truly uncomfortable with the idea. "I will not be forced. But my cousin - our oracle - she had a prophecy, and so far it seems... highly probable that you will be the one to fulfill it." He turns his gaze to watch his elk as she noses a patch of flowers and startles off an insect. "She dreamt two moons ago of a fire bird and a dragon merging to become a wyvern. We all believe it means an alliance with one of House Britannia is the way forward."  
  
"And I suppose the fire bird is meant to symbolize..."  
  
"It is a deity whose name I share." Suzaku confirms.  
  
"I see." Lelouch stops when he notices that Asa has decided to approach him, her ears swiveling in curiosity as she steps gingerly across the grass. He waits till she is close enough before slowly extending an open palm, which she sniffs and then thrusts the smooth velvet of her nose against, drawing his laughter.  
  
Suzaku smiles at their interaction. "This is Asa," he introduces, as Lelouch lifts his other hand to stroke the fur on her neck. "One of our mountain elk."  
  
"She's quite the beauty. Word around here is that they make strong and fast steeds."  
  
"She's a fine elk," Suzaku agrees, knows that from the fondness in his voice Lelouch will also hear  _'I couldn't ask for better'_  if he is perceptive. Lelouch moves to scratch the fur on the underside of her neck and Asa grunts, shaking her head a little before whuffing gently into his palm. A grin tugs on Suzaku's mouth. "I think she likes you." A good sign, then.  
  
Lelouch's look turns pensive even as he rubs the elk down her nose. "This cousin of yours," He has not forgotten the topic at hand. "Does she also believe that I will bring you dragons?"  
  
Suzaku chooses his next words carefully. Kaguya herself has never spoken in definite terms - only that he should journey to accept the Prince's proposition - but as Oracle she is usually right. "I do not think that was a major consideration for her, but..."  
  
Lelouch hums as Asa makes no move to leave them, still content to accept his show of affection. "What do you already know of Britannia's dragons?"  
  
"Well," Suzaku watches the way he rubs her snout with ease, almost as if the action is already old, familiar. The lore surrounding the dragons of Westeros is age-old, too - older than the Britannian empire itself. "They are the revered beasts of Britannia. We know they are born from eggs bestowed by those like divine beings to whom they choose. And that they return to dust upon death." There is a reason why dragons are said to bring the power of kings, after all, even in these parts - though of what Suzaku hears is true, even the knights of the royal house can at times be blessed with their own winged companions. "We know also that there are less of them now," he says, gingerly - whether or not it is because fewer are bestowed or fewer eggs hatch, it is not clear. Though in light of how Britannia has yet to invade the region with the full force of its dragons, this perhaps is why.  
  
Lelouch nods. "Britannia may now seem so prosperous, but during an ideal and peaceful reign, there would be no lack of dragons... or so used to be the saying." His mouth is a bitter smirk, now. "In my time, there are two known bearers - their names are V.V. and C.C. It's true that C.C. was fond of my mother, but she has not been seen ever since her death. And even if she should decide to bring to me the first dragon eggs in all of Essos, we do not know if they will hatch." Asa finally decides that she has had enough attention, and Lelouch's voice falls somewhat quieter as he watches her move away and return to grazing. "Hope may be a powerful thing, Lord Kururugi, but you should know that there is nothing I can give you for certain other than myself."  
  
"Then I would hope that with your knowledge, we would still be readier to face Britannia than we currently are." Suzaku will be frank where Lelouch has also been. After all, it is not a desire to gamble on dragons that has led him here, but the desire for something greater. Surer. "And at least, it's as you've said - if as a symbol of the house of dragons you can lend me your strength to reinforce the purpose and hope of my people, I'm sure that in itself will be of much value."   
  
The clan is still reeling from the double loss produced by Genbu's death and the siege of Kaminejima. And with him young and inexperienced and the last of his line, Suzaku does not blame them for the palpable uncertainty running through them now, well-liked a face though he may be in the market streets and the neighborhoods. It is no wonder that even Kaguya has been far from subtle in urging him to take a mate. To be peacefully wedded and bonded speaks of stability and support in their lands; to have heirs on the way, more so - a fresh start after over a decade of Genbu's disinclination to mate again following the death of Suzaku's mother. What more, now, for Suzaku to have a mate that was one of Britannia's, a mate bent on opposing the empire.  
  
"...Besides," He continues, smiling more easily this time and feeling perhaps a bit foolish - in another time they would probably be considered young, almost too young to be speaking so freely at length about things which still feel far greater than and beyond them - but they cannot afford to be so young anymore. All the same, he finds it in himself to lighten the tone a little, "My cousin is a formidable woman, and her prophecies have yet to fail us. To return so quickly and tell her that I am declining her advice just because certain things cannot be guaranteed would... not be wise."  
  
This prompts a short laugh from Lelouch; it lights his eyes and Suzaku feels his heartbeat quicken a little in response.  _Foolish and young._  
  
"I presume they will want to ensure that we bond." Lelouch says after a moment has passed, voice soft but no less uncertain. Suzaku is less sure of whether or not Lelouch has consciously lowered his eyes - this matter concerns the most the most intimate connection their bodies and hearts are capable of forming, after all. And only a heat between two willing and untroubled partners can bring about a bond - the reason why it is thought, across almost all cultures, that bonds were how the First Men formed stable and committed partnerships to raise their children.   
  
Now, to be wedded is one thing, to go the furthest is to choose the original ritual that will spiritually bind two bodies and souls for a lifetime. Even the Westerosi are said to take soul bonds seriously, or so Suzaku understands. Among the Ashigaru most marriages are already honored for life even without the binding process, but to bond is to enhance further still the understanding, affection and trust in a partnership. And it is how Lelouch has correctly guessed that for him to fully gain the clan's trust as an outsider, he and Suzaku must become pair bonds, for if his heart is true to Suzaku's, and Suzaku's to his, then...  
  
But Suzaku looks at him and thinks, hopeful, that it will not be so difficult for either of them, perhaps even easier than expected. He can sense - smell now, really, at certain times - Lelouch's attraction to him, knows that he probably smells the same to Lelouch even though they have yet to touch. Subtle and modest, but there - though it is hardly an appropriate time to tell the Prince how pleasant he finds his scent. Out loud, Suzaku only acknowledges his question and responds with as much delicacy as he can manage, "If we wed, then during the ceremony we will be given a root tea that will help induce both our heats." He pauses, tentative. "I trust this is not too strange for you?"  
  
Lelouch smiles and it seems to come easily, gentle on his features. "Not at all." Britannia must have similar methods, then. "...And if I were to request that Jeremiah be allowed to continue in service as one of my guards, in that case? He is the only one to have followed me across the sea - and like a brother to me."   
  
There will not be problems here. Ashigaru value loyalty and honor and he doubts Kaguya will not approve either, so Suzaku smiles and says, "I don't see a reason why not."  
  
"Very well," Lelouch appears satisfied. They have stopped walking again, but there is a finality approaching that Suzaku is not quite yet ready to reach, despite themselves.  
  
"Your Highness, if I may now be so forward --" It has not been raised again since the conversation began. What may seem obvious to Lelouch is not yet as apparent to him, and Suzaku wants a clearer idea of what Lelouch's goals are. "You spoke earlier of vengeance. What exactly do you wish to achieve, by joining me?"  
  
"What is it  _you_  want, Lord Kururugi?" It is effortless, the way Lelouch turns the question back on him, looking at him intently even as he smiles and asks without bite, "Why have you come to me?"  
  
Suzaku thinks of Kawaguchiko, the great lake before the sea, and the small land of Shikinejima - their falls already the beginnings of Britannian encroachment. Thus far their neighbors have kept their colonizers appeased with what the mines produce, but Suzaku is no ignorant fool. It is a peace that will not last forever, especially if the unhappiness that is brewing in Westeros arises in the colonies, too - and because all of Essos is home to proud clans and free cities, and his people are no different. If a war comes to their shores there will be no further surrender from the clan, not now while they still have Genbu's honor to reclaim (not while they do not know its loss was his fault in the first place). It is hope that they lack now, and morale, but not the pride - never the pride that will have them fighting to the last breath even if dragon fire burns everything to the ground, not as long as he gives the word.  
  
"I want the safety and the happiness of my people." He says softly at last. That is the role of the  _shogun_ , that is what he must do - to guard and carry the will of his clan.  
  
Lelouch's mouth sets in a hard line. "Then I think you will agree. We both know that your forces potentially present one of the largest resistances to Britannia yet, dragons or no dragons. Rather than sit idly and wait to defend yourselves against the full force of their army, in time to come you may find the need or the opportunity for a pre-emptive attack on Britannian shores. That is what I want." Lelouch's answer comes, quiet and final. "To stop Britannia's poison from spreading further."  
  
"You wish to storm Pendragon's palace and overthrow the Emperor?" Suzaku feels a frown crease his brow almost immediately. It is not as though the thought has never crossed his mind before - a retaliation, not to conquer, but to eliminate their biggest threat. But it is reckless, even with all the sakuradite they can still use for defense. Full-frontal assault, and all the sacrifices he must be prepared to make for such a battle. All the civilian lives that may be caught in between.  
  
Lelouch only nods in affirmation. "Perhaps not for a few years. But if we can bide our time." There is a determination now that flashes bright in his eyes, that Suzaku would find himself admiring if not for all the weight his words carry. "For all its military might Britannia still has fault lines in its kingdom that are deepening even as we speak. The conquered Westerosi houses are oppressed and malcontent, as are the commoners, and even among my siblings there has been talk of vying for the Emperor's throne. If we make the right moves, these are all instabilities that we can use to our advantage."  
  
"And what of that throne, should your quest succeed? Are we to suppose you don't desire it for yourself?"  
  
"I do not." Lelouch says simply, without hesitation. "I have no intention of displacing one dictator only to make room for the next. It is Britannia's entire system that must be destroyed and created anew."  
  
He burns with the same conviction as Suzaku's captains and generals, the best of his men. It is breathtaking, and difficult to ignore how even in tempered rage and defiance Lelouch is both striking and beautiful. And it is true, Suzaku is forced to admit to himself. Even if they were to defend their keep successfully, Britannia's threat will remain as long as it is not dealt with at the root. But they are not ready, as things are now, as they are now. Even if they are blessed somehow with dragons --  
  
"That is still a big risk to ask of me, and my people." There is something tight in his chest, a stubbornness that wants another way each time he tries to face this problem, even though he already knows there may be none.  
  
"I know it is no small feat." Lelouch's voice grows soft. "But we have some time yet to determine what Britannia is planning, and where its weaknesses are. And never will I knowingly urge you to send your soldiers to a place where only death awaits." A promise, offered in understanding of Suzaku's reservations. "Although," he smiles now, and it is wry. "Surely you have realized that with or without me, you may not have a choice if it is your clan's safety and freedom you want."  
  
"I have." Suzaku closes his eyes briefly and agrees. He knows that if Britannia presses them further - which they likely will - it is attack first, or die defending. ( _No more surrendering._ ) He finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that this decision was not his to make. He wishes he did not already sound so resigned. He wishes there was another solution, and that he could have Lelouch's impressive resolve if there is not. He is young, Suzaku can hear his father's voice saying again, young and foolish.   
  
And he wonders if from this moment, he can cease to be.  
  
Lelouch speaks quietly, as if hearing his thoughts. "Of course... if a better path emerges, let us take it."  
  
He is still looking at Suzaku, his features softer now in something like empathy although none of the intensity in his eyes has faded, and when he smiles again, gentle, Suzaku thinks he knows what he must do.  
  
The one weakness he has in his skill with the blade, Tohdoh tells him, is his tendency to waver at the last moment. The first time he almost defeats Tohdoh in a sword fight, a half-second where his blade wavers costs him his victory. It wavers also on the last night Suzaku faces his father; only his body, moving like flowing water, saves him. Today, Suzaku decides, and from this day forth - he must never let it waver again.  
  
Suzaku breathes in.  
  
"…Even if there is none," His voice is a soft rush as he takes Lelouch's hand - almost the same size, warm to the touch, smooth - and Suzaku lowers one knee to the ground to ask for the honor of Lelouch's favor and his life, and offer his own. "If you can help me, then my heart and my people are yours as well. If you will have me."  
  
"I think," Lelouch breathes out his answer, grasping his hand firmly with both of his own. "I will."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * * TO BE CONTINUED * * *
> 
>   
> Fantasy AUs with politics are difficult to set up, whew!
> 
> Asa is a nod to Arthur the cat, who is apparently [actually also female, according to Sunrise.](http://geassactivate.tumblr.com/post/51649109413/arthur-is-named-arthur-but-shes-a-girl-in)
> 
> The next update has not been written yet, and I'm not sure when it will be done, BUT I can promise that when it happens, there will be porn. Lots of it. <3
> 
> Comments provide excellent encouragement, so please do send them my way if you liked this! :D


	2. Part I: Three Visits (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I need to say THANK YOU for all the comments and kudos so far. I honestly hadn’t expected that much positive response for just a single opening chapter. It is extremely heartening to know that people are still reading and liking things like this! 
> 
> This chapter is predominantly a transitional one, i.e. the plot is taking a bit of a backseat for now, and it will only start re-emerging around the second half of the next chapter. I am preemptively sorry for such a long set-up process this round – but hey, there’s porn this time! All 4,700 words of the final quarter of this chapter. I hope you find that rewarding :D Thank you for reading!

**Part I: Three Visits (2)**

 

They leave the Ashfords a half month later, Jeremiah taking with him only his sword and two smaller blades. Lelouch has few personal belongings and no need for all the scrolls and writings pored over during the last few years, but he does carry with him the simple butterfly pendant that was his mother’s, before it was Nunnally’s, his one set of chess – and a firm embrace from Milly with her blessings and his promise to write to her regularly.

Ashigaru sends a carriage – horse-drawn and nondescript, an avoidance of unnecessary attention and a way of keeping news of the agreement only to deserving ears for the time being – and two escorts within it. The first, Lelouch recognizes as Kouzuki Kallen, the second is a new face, a small woman with short-cropped hair and a seemingly quiet demeanor – but keen eyes and a steady, graceful precision to her movements that he notes when she steps out of the carriage to greet them.

Kouzuki nods in her direction after they bow. “This is Shinozaki Sayoko, our Lord’s Chief of domestic security and Head of the Elite Guard. She’ll be directly responsible for your care and safety whenever you’re in the inner residence.”

“It’s an honor.” Sayoko bows again after a brief exchange of acknowledgement with Jeremiah at the introduction, the language of Ashigaru rolling smoothly off her tongue and close enough to Yayoi that Lelouch understands it right away.

“Likewise,” he returns, feeling the small lift of his lips. This is a woman with an air of dependability and a muted confidence found only among elite soldiers – enough, clearly, to have eased even Jeremiah’s usual guardedness and commanded his respect at the outset. Kallen’s presence is bolder, more readily assertive, as expected of a captain her age rising quickly in the ranks – but Sayoko is likely no less her match in terms of skill and capability.

They step aside to let him and Jeremiah board the carriage first. Lelouch lets himself pause for no more than half a second, then walks forward and climbs in without looking back.

Kallen and Sayoko sit across from them, each keeping half an eye on the surroundings through the sheer veils over the windows on either side, after they move off. Traveling by carriage requires a longer route with wider roads and smoother terrain, but if their escorts managed to reach Yokosuka again without problems, then there probably isn’t too much cause for worry. All the same, Lelouch thinks, the caution is understandable.

Kallen rests her hands on her knees, her posture relaxing a little as she addresses them. “We should reach shortly before sundown. Her Eminence Lady Kaguya will be receiving you first.” She glances between Lelouch and Jeremiah. “I trust His Lordship has already informed you of the cleansing ritual she will guide you through?”

“He has,” says Lelouch.

Ashigaru has a simple but sacred day-long ritual that all clan leaders and their mates must go through before a marriage, in order to ask for favor and blessing from their gods on behalf of the entire clan’s future. It was explained in brief by Suzaku before they parted two weeks ago – and the rite is taken seriously enough that no one else besides the present Oracle and her priestesses may be allowed on the cleansing grounds until the ritual is considered complete.

There is no conceivable reason that Ashigaru has to harm them now – especially not after coming so far – and much less anything they can gain from doing so. Lelouch thus has seen no reason to object, and Jeremiah likewise was more than ready to cooperate after observing his lack of unease over the matter. The _shogun_ himself can certainly be trusted on this, in any case. Suzaku had turned out more charming than expected in all his earnestness – a warm and open face and personality that was admirably troubled by a sense of duty, burdened with genuine care for his soldiers and his people – and, satisfyingly, very obviously taken with Lelouch upon their meeting. He is young, to be holding so much power, and perhaps a little naive and uncertain, easy enough to manipulate if need be, but this is also where Lelouch can –– this is where Lelouch must hope that they can help each other instead.

He is, after all, under no illusions about the age he shares with Suzaku, although Lelouch is reasonably certain that Britannian aristocrats his age do not commonly harbor ambitions toward the destruction of the entire empire, either. All the same, they are both untried, and it is difficult at times not to _feel_  young and insecure again, as dependent as he was six years ago on the favor of others. Now the decision is of his own making, as much as it was initially Schneizel’s – but Lelouch will never admit to the fact that his chest is still tightening occasionally ( _foolishly_ ) in anticipation at the thought of the new life he will begin in a matter of days, of how their arrival on Ashigaru territory will likely be met almost immediately with preparations for the marriage.

According to what he has learned from Suzaku, they will have to be separated for the duration of their cleansing as a way of consecrating themselves thoroughly and avoiding any ill luck. But a window of time to meet with him again before the rituals begin will be ideal, if possible, and if only for the added reassurance that he has chosen well, to see for a little what the new _shogun_ is like in his own home before he enters his bed.

“There will still be guards stationed around the perimeter, of course,” Kallen is saying now, nodding toward Sayoko. “Sayoko will be an overseer. Sir Jeremiah may join if he so wishes.”

Jeremiah lowers his head in a humble gesture. “I would be honored.”

Lelouch lets his eyes move thoughtfully over to Sayoko. “Today would be the first I’ve heard of the Ashigaru’s Elite Guard.”

Ashigaru land is both naturally defended by the northeastern mountain ranges, and protected by military contingents led by commander generals and captains who double as clan leadership and each have a say in the affairs of their various cities and villages. They report to Tohdoh Kyoshirou, who is second only to the _shogun_ in military matters and who commands the Four Holy Swords – four of Ashigaru’s veteran generals whose names and valor Lelouch has heard of long before Schneizel’s last visit. He has not known of an elite guard class in Ashigaru’s military hierarchy, though its existence is perhaps unsurprising.

Sayoko smiles, mild as she responds in Britannian. “A backbone rarely warrants mention or praise despite its function. We have the honor of overseeing security and all matters within the _shogun’s_ private estate.”

“Sayoko is heir to the Shinozaki dojo that trains such guards.” It is clear now that they will have no problems keeping up friendly conversation to pass the time, given the ease with which Kallen adds to it.

“My mother served as Chief when His Lordship was just born.” There is subtle pride in Sayoko’s voice, but not the boastfulness brought by the fault of overconfidence. “I’ve been helping him look after Lord Kururugi and the _bakufu_ estate since I was eight. He is retired now, to inherit and manage the Shinozaki way.”

“Then he has served well.” Lelouch slots the information away in his mind. Like in Britannia, children in Ashigaru inherit the name of the house they are born into, irrespective of which parent fathered or mothered them. That omegas in Ashigaru are also allowed to hold high office and positions of power comes as no surprise either, given the discovery of herb suppressants an entire age ago. Kururugi Genbu lost his mate to illness while Suzaku was still a child, and never took another, which likely means that the Shinozaki line may be as good as family to Suzaku, Sayoko like a mother, aunt or sister despite the lord and retainer relationship officially shared between them. There is little wonder, then, in how Suzaku barely hesitated in accepting the request for Jeremiah to continue in service.

Idly, Lelouch wonders how much detail about Ashigaru’s affairs their traveling companions would be willing to further brief him on before he is properly bonded to Suzaku – there cannot possibly be harm in trying to determine current ground sentiments toward Westerosi in general, in any case. He turns his attention to Kallen, taking care to smile pleasantly without being overbearing.

“What of yourself, Captain? If you don’t mind my asking, are half-Westerosi common in the ranks?”

With hair brighter than even Suzaku’s and her eyes that shade of blue, the Westerosi half of Kallen’s lineage is evident despite her family name. But for her to occupy a commandant position is one thing – it will be another entirely if Westerosi are rare among Ashigaru’s settlers and she is the exception to the rule.

As Lelouch has guessed, however, Kallen lets out a short laugh. “Well we’re not that uncommon, though I suppose we do stand out pretty easily.”

Her face grows pensive, more grim. “Most of the people of Westeros who share our lands arrived when the Emperor of Britannia started forcing all the other houses to submit. My father was an alpha that fled here with some of her family instead of submitting to the new rule when the Stadtfeld house lost their battle.” She smiles wryly. “Many of us with Westerosi blood in the forces now are the children of people like her.”

The rest hardly needs elaboration – the Ashigaru army has no reason not to take in volunteers with a clear grudge against the dominion of Britannia or a willingness to defend their new home from being taken as well. How he and Jeremiah look will be less of a problem than the knowledge that they were originally part of the Britannian Empire – though this means that he needs only to convince all of Ashigaru of his unfailing opposition toward Charles to win their support. There is still very little that Lelouch can do alone on his own strength, after all, and it will not help either to marry into leadership but have a people only half-convinced of his worthiness, despite the supposed trust that a bond with Suzaku will eventually secure.

Kallen swallows, her hands curling into fists on her lap. “My brother, Naoto – was in the ranks, too. In fact he was just promoted to High Captain, before I was, but he... led the first defensive battle of Kaminejima before the surrender. None of those three thousand soldiers survived.”

Her voice is remarkably steady, but Lelouch knows the anguish of losing a beloved sibling, and to his ears the pain of a grief still fresh is evident in her speech. Why Kallen has brought this up is obvious, too. His sympathy and compassion for the soldiers who will serve him will be important, dedicated as they are to their lord and lands. Lelouch lowers his eyes, answering quietly. “I’m sorry. That would have required no small amount of bravery.” He allows a moment’s pause. “Britannia owes me my sister as well. I’ll do my utmost to guide you and ensure their deaths were not in vain.”

He looks up to convey the promise. The corner of Kallen’s mouth turns upward, her eyes keen as she studies him. “I should hope so.”

Lelouch sees the line of Sayoko’s back go rigid on her next glance out at their surroundings. Before he or Jeremiah can ask what the problem is, their carriage comes to an abrupt halt.

“Captain.” Their driver’s voice, from the outside. What he says next sounds like there is an issue with the road.

Kallen draws back the veil, enough that Lelouch glimpses it from where he is seated – the road ahead is collapsed at the turning, a loose pile of rocks and boulders obstructing the narrow valley path and seemingly having crumbled from the ridges on either side.

Kallen frowns and drops the drapes. “Bandits. This path was still unobstructed at sunrise.”

It is a desperate band, then, to be targeting a carriage so ordinary looking. Jeremiah’s hand has shifted to the hilt of his sword. Out loud, Lelouch frowns too and says, “There’s nothing we have that will satisfy them.”

“That’s the entire problem.” Kallen has picked up her bow and is slinging a quiver over her back, sounding a little too calm at the prospect of having their horses and carriage taken in lieu of the spoils they do not have to offer – though Lelouch supposes there is ample reason why only two particular escorts were sent for them.

Kallen orders something in Ashigaru tongue about taking the other route over the river, and Lelouch manages not to flinch as an arrow, whistling as it cuts through the air, buries itself with a thud in the side of the carriage just as they start to move off again. One of their horses lets out a shrill whinny in panic, and the carriage jerks a little before rapidly speeding up.

Kallen utters a curse he does not understand, one hand wrapped on the window frame.

“Shall I assist?” Jeremiah is already half–rising on his haunches.

“No. Stay hidden, close the windows and look after the Prince in case anything happens.” Kallen braces a foot on the windowsill. “But I doubt it’ll come to that. Shinozaki.” She barely looks back at Sayoko before shoving the veil aside and leaping out the carriage window and onto its roof – Sayoko’s answering, “Captain,” hardly a beat later as she does the same.

He and Jeremiah slide the attached wooden slates into place over the windows, barriers against projectiles where cloth drapes are of little use. Still, Lelouch knows better than to stay near them where the wood is thinner. There is nothing more to be seen, in any case – only to be heard as he presses himself against the back of the carriage – faint yells from the surrounding shrubbery, the galloping pace of hoofbeats as they attempt to lose their pursuers. Two more thuds of arrows, this time on Jeremiah’s side of the carriage – they are targeting the carriage wheels.

Just as the thought registers, there is a yelp of surprise from one of the bandits, and closer, a loud growl of annoyance – Kallen – and then nothing; some moments later they are slowing to a stop.

Footsteps outside the doors. Lelouch exchanges glances with Jeremiah, the latter unsheathing his sword halfway just in case before Kallen’s voice announces, “We’re coming back in.”

The doors open on either side and Jeremiah’s stance relaxes as the two women re-enter in one piece, their driver starting them forward once more. “All done,” Kallen says, slotting her bow aside. “They won’t be bothering us again.”

It is difficult not to stare. Neither of them is breaking sweat or breathing hard, Kallen’s armor as unscathed as it was a few minutes ago. But she is bleeding from one palm, Lelouch realizes as Kallen yanks off her headband to wrap it around the wound with a disgruntled mutter. “Caught the arrow too soon.” She looks up at them then and grins. “It’s a trick that always gets to them though. Especially if you manage to land a few shots first.”

It is enough to deduce what has happened – the gash on Kallen’s hand is from the head of an arrow that she caught barehanded on the carriage roof and then fired back to their assailants using the same hand that snatched it out of its flight. Her rank as a High Captain of Ashigaru is well deserved.

“Thank you both,” Lelouch breathes when he remembers himself. Roaming bandits are known to appear occasionally in these parts. Had the group been more skilled and coordinated, Lelouch might once have briefly entertained the idea of winning them over to add to numbers – but not now when his alliance with Suzaku is still being kept from wide publicity as precaution, and not when this band is clearly no match against just two of Ashigaru’s elite, who are demonstrably indeed all that they need for this journey.

Sayoko smiles but lowers her head. “We’ve merely honored our duty, Your Highness.”

With her injured hand, Kallen slides the window on her side open to let the air in again and then flexes her fingers around the makeshift bandaging, smirking when they move without trouble. “There’s a Britannian phrase that will be somewhat... _apt_ for this, isn’t there. Something about being in good hands, I believe?”

* * *

 

The remainder of the trip passes without event. Kallen and Sayoko instead use the time to ask some questions of their own about Britannia and their settlement in Essos, though they keep, mostly, to ones that are safer and would not be considered intrusive – professional. Lelouch obliges them; Jeremiah, also, where he can.

Can dragons really grow to the length of eight horses? No, their bodies span the length of three or four horses at most when full-sized, though perhaps five if they live to a great age, or six if you include the tails. Is it true that the Emperor of Britannia has over a hundred different consorts? Yes, and mostly female, though Charles does bed the full range, at least from what Lelouch knows. (The disapproval is evident in the women with this one, Kallen wearing it more obviously on her face than Sayoko. Lelouch does not blame them; the people of Ashigaru honor monogamy strictly once marriage comes into the picture.)

What of their time in Essos? Can he and Jeremiah use chopsticks adequately? Have they adapted to the diet or have they had Westerosi cuisine prepared for them at the Ashfords’? Yes, and they have grown accustomed to a mixture during their time here. Did he start learning Yayoi at the palace or after his arrival (arrival, they say tactfully, and not banishment) and does he know any of the eastern tongues besides it? At the palace, says Lelouch, as part of his lessons due to the growing importance of trade between the regions. His grasp of it, as well as Jeremiah’s, is enough that they can understand a few of the dialects with some effort, but he will need more exposure and perhaps some instruction in the Ashigaru tongue before he attains the same fluency.There are scrolls, Sayoko says, that she knows of in Lord Kururugi’s library, which may help. She promises to bring them to him once it is appropriate.

They build a working relationship. The women ultimately maintain some distance and respectfulness because of his status and the new one he will be conferred, but Lelouch does not sense any immediate wariness or animosity coming from them either, which is as much as he can ask for, for now.

Despite the slight detour, they still manage to make it to the gates of Edo before sundown. Through the linen veil, Lelouch takes in the sight of the entrance left open for all merchants and travelers during the day – familiar and yet different, a watchtower roof curving gently outward and formed by tiles arranged intricately in perfect rows, city walls more daunting and fortified than those of Yokosuka, the wooden doors that welcome them as they pass through large and almost twice as high.

“Welcome to Edo,” Kallen says, smiling as she notices them peering beyond the veils.

After a number of minutes they turn off into a quieter road, arriving a short while later at a row of simple wooden houses constructed in front of a clearing with a spring.

Jeremiah offers him a hand down the carriage, Lelouch disembarking last after Sayoko and Kallen hop off. He sees a young woman awaiting them by the entrance of the frontmost house, regal in both poise and presence.

“Prince Lelouch, I believe.” She greets them with a bow in the style of the eastern lands when they walk up to her, her hands folded primly in front of red and white robes that fall to her feet. The sunlight winks briefly off the circlet that she wears and dances in eyes with the same brightness, the same green as Suzaku’s as she raises her head.

She is small in stature, but possesses a presence no less commanding of respect than Tohdoh’s, ( _A formidable woman,_ said Suzaku) and it is hardly a child’s face that smiles warmly at him as he returns the bow.

“Lady Kaguya.”

Kaguya takes his hands in hers, beaming meaningfully. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” she says, in a way that makes it obvious that she is not merely referring to their day’s journey. Her eyes travel over to Jeremiah behind him, and the smile does not fade. “And this must be Sir Jeremiah Gottwald.”

“My lady,” Jeremiah bows in answer, his speech matching hers, in Yayoi, but the manner is of Britannia and of his old title – one arm angled at the elbow, and held poised over his front.

“Lord Kururugi has spoken well of your form. And of your loyalty.” Her eyes twinkle. “I hope you don’t mind us having to borrow your prince for about a day. I assure you he will be well looked after under my watch.”

“I understand,” Jeremiah nods politely; he has already been briefed. Kaguya turns her attention to Sayoko and Kallen.

“Well done on your journey. There are refreshments for everyone waiting at the guesthouse, if you’ll show Sir Jeremiah the way.”

To Lelouch, she smiles again, and gives his hand a slight squeeze as his small company is dismissed. “Come with me.”

After he removes his boots at the entrance, she leads him into what looks like a sitting room, simple and mostly bare but for a low table and some cushions, _tatami_ over the wooden floors. Beyond an open partition, he sees a hallway branching into a few more rooms, the floors of similar wood – old, but well-kept. Kaguya’s footsteps pad softly as she moves to slide the door from the entrance shut, the fabric of her robes swishing quietly around her feet.

Instead of bidding him sit, she pauses to face him again, in a way that brings him to a standstill before her while she regards him. It is suddenly difficult not to feel uncertain and very much out of place, even though he has anticipated this, somewhat – her scrutiny, that things could be a little strange; she is, after all, the new Oracle as well as one who sits in Suzaku’s council, and he in a foreign land with little more than secondhand knowledge to guide him. Lelouch manages to make himself wait, patiently, while she circles him once, twice, her eyes flitting up and down his form and assessing without the slightest hint of reservation.

Seemingly satisfied, Kaguya guides him to sit on one of the cushions by the table, though she says nothing still as she pads over to kneel across from him. Lelouch is presented with the impression that his arrival is a source of both amusement and delight to her – especially when she tilts her head slightly and meets his gaze evenly, a small smile on her lips as she stares at him.

Lelouch is quite certain that none of this has anything to do with the rituals Suzaku has spoken of, though he is content to wait and see what comes of it.

At last Kaguya speaks again, a note of laughter in her voice. “Suzaku is right, you are even more strikingly beautiful than I expected you to be.”

“I meet Your Eminence’s approval, then?” The response comes easily, already formed on the tip of his tongue while he waited, the curve of a pointed smile shaping his lips.

Kaguya’s laughter is light as she begins pouring them tea from the pot on the table. “Yes. Yes, I think you’ll do nicely. You see, Suzaku has the makings of a good _shogun._ As a soldier he is strong, skilled,” She fills the first cup and starts on the second, “As a leader he is kindhearted, much like his mother was – but what he needs is someone who can steady him and balance these qualities, especially now. Someone who can do that while also understanding his heart.” She sets down the teapot, smiling evenly as she gazes at him once more. “Well I suppose just about any pair bond will give him the reassurance and comfort that we as his council cannot, but clearly it is _your_ sun the gods are guiding the moon towards.”

Lelouch blinks despite himself, lost at her last words. “I beg your pardon?” Dragons, fire birdsand wyverns he has heard of, by now, but such a comparison is new.

“Ah, forgive me.” She folds her hands in her lap. “We have old, different words for what you call omegas, alphas and betas in our language. More... poetic, if you like.” Another smile. “You and I, dear Prince, would be _taiyoushi_ – children of the sun and bringers and givers of life. Suzaku is _tsukuyomi,_ named after the moon god, as are all alphas, and our betas are known as the _waboshi_. They are the stars that harmonize and hold in them the energies of both the sun and the moon. What I meant earlier is that the gods seem to think you’ll make a suitable match for our leader, in uncertain times like these.”

“Did the gods also explain why the sun must come from enemy skies, then?” It is out before he can quite stop himself, a test for him to gauge the full extent of her authority, just subtle enough to question without slighting it directly.

From all he has gathered so far, it is this priestess before him now whose word holds the most weight in Ashigaru. Granted, in this event, there is sense beyond mere visions in accepting him as the mate they seek for their _shogun_. But if even Suzaku and the whole council, the people – can be convinced by what she says, then it is ultimately Kaguya who holds the most power over certain decisions, even if no one is obligated to follow her advice. It is Kaguya who first put this alliance into motion as much as Schneizel did. Of course, it is also Kaguya who seems to know very well what the clan needs, and Kaguya who should know loyally and perfectly well her own place – though Lelouch cannot help but look at her and feel concern over how she is seemingly mature, but the face, the physical, is still _young_ – no older than he is. And at the back of his mind there is a thought that is difficult to dismiss, the idea that any one of her visions might still end up influenced by fleeting impulse, instead of wisdom and experience or any real divine inspiration.

Kaguya receives the question for what it is. She stays serene, smiling. “You doubt the validity of the visions I’ve been given.”

“Truly, I meant no disrespect.” Lelouch lowers his eyes, softens the challenge of his words. “But surely even you cannot guarantee the success of this union.” Whether or not dragons will come. Whether or not the armies of Ashigaru, marching against Britannia, will prevail.

“I cannot.” Kaguya agrees readily. “And I cannot tell you how things will unfold. But I know what I saw.” The words ring with the conviction of one unshaken in belief. Lelouch feels himself relent a little. For her to seem so certain would partially explain the trust her elders have readily placed in her. “And I have now seen from your concern, too, that your heart is clear.” Kaguya continues. A twinkle, almost mischievous, returns to her eye. “Unless of course, this is your way of telling me your intentions are not as pure as you have made them seem?”

She does, indeed, know what she is doing. Lelouch bows his head briefly in concession, feeling as if he might have just overstepped the line he was trying to toe. But her tone is still light, and so he smiles. “Of course not. I apologize. Forgive me for doubting.”

She returns the smile, calm and without malice. “Do not belittle me or think me swayed by whimsical fancies, Dragon Prince. It’s true that to inherit the Oracle’s gift is merely to relay the voices of the gods and their intentions – and to seek guidance and petition, if need be. But,” and she grins, “I am not also called ‘the Goddess of Victory’ without reason.”

“My lady,” he defers, with another cast of his eyes downward in respect.

“Kaguya.” A cool knuckle gently under his chin, lifting it so that their gazes are level once more, and her hand touches his cheek in a friendly gesture across the table. “You are to be _m_ _idai_ to our lord and leader soon enough. You may as well address me as he does in private.”

“Understood.”

Kaguya’s eyes flicker upward even before he hears the door behind him slide open, her smile widening. “What good timing.”

“Forgive the intrusion, but I thought I’d come by while it’s not yet nightfall,” comes a voice, lighthearted, that has Lelouch rising to his feet.

“Lord Kururugi.”

“Your Grace,” Suzaku drops to a bow, neat and brief, a smile on his face when he raises his head.

“Lelouch,” Lelouch offers, since Kaguya has deemed it appropriate for them to let formalities slide, at least among one another in private.

Suzaku gathers both his hands up in his, his touch warm, and tests the name on his tongue. “Lelouch.” He has a lovely face, the same as Lelouch remembers it to be, the smile brilliant, his eyes as bright and green as they were the day he knelt before Lelouch in the Ashford garden, and he looks only genuinely happy to be seeing Lelouch again. Here is the man he has agreed to give himself to, likeable and attractive much to some small fortune of Lelouch’s - dressed more simply this time in a pale kimono under _hakama_ , the region’s style of pants. Lelouch smiles, and returns,

“Suzaku.”

Suzaku nods, his hands giving Lelouch’s a gentle squeeze. “I spoke to Sayoko and Jeremiah on my way here.” He doesn’t need to elaborate much further. “I’m glad you arrived safely.”

“I’m sure we owe that to the two escorts you knew would be more than enough to keep us safe.”

“Kallen and Sayoko know what to do,” Suzaku agrees, modestly. “I see you’ve already met my cousin.”

Lelouch says, “Yes, we’ve just had a very instructive lesson on... astronomy,” turning to see the subject of their discussion finally rise as well.

Kaguya exchanges smiles with Suzaku by way of greeting. “Speaking of which... it _is_ almost sundown.” 

Suzaku nods again and shifts a slight step back from him, likely half-consciously since it effectively does nothing to separate their linked hands, much less their presence from each other. He speaks as much to Kaguya as he does to Lelouch, “I’ll inform them to begin the preparations, now that we’re both here.” A warm-eyed gaze finds its way back to Lelouch. “The word needs to be released at last, too.”

“Yes, do that. The way I see it,” Kaguya comes up to them, smiling meaningfully as she places her hands carefully over theirs, “there shouldn’t be any reason why we can’t hold the ceremony right away at sundown tomorrow.”

* * *

 

The rituals turn out to be sparingly few and simple.

Under Kaguya's direction they separate before the last of the sun’s rays leave the sky, Suzaku supposedly (and somewhat endearingly) having satisfied his hostly concerns over Lelouch’s relative comfort and having personally delivered the reassurance that Lelouch will be left in the good hands of Kaguya and her priestesses, till they are both readied to face each other once more.

The physical separation seems to be the only active role they need to take for the rest of the evening. Kaguya calls on some of her maidens for assistance and Lelouch is served rice, an assortment of greens and some sweet root; red meat will not be allowed from now until he is cleansed and wedded. Later he is shown how to use the bath in the way of the clan – to rinse and scrub clean before entering the wooden basin where they have scattered a few buds of jasmine on the surface of warm water. The blouse and pants he arrived in are put aside and they dress him in a lightweight _yukata_ after – it is awkward, at first, especially around his legs, but the cloth is soft and welcomes his sleep when he takes to the mattress provided to him for the night.

The cleansing rituals themselves begin in the morning, by the large rocks on the banks of the spring where a shrine awaits. The shrine gates are carved of wood, two posts connected at the top with a curved lintel, modest but elegant and stretching over the first in a path of smooth rocks toward the altar further into the spring. Kaguya has him wade ankle-deep into the water, first – to soak his feet and wash his hands and face. The morning air is peacefully undisturbed but for the sound of birds and soft rushing water, clear and cool against his skin.

The spring is a sacred one, he is told, where it is believed the first man who was nicknamed _ashigaru_ – light feet – had met his mate, seeking a drink from the spring with the red elk he’d tamed. Now Kaguya must present Lelouch before the gods, and, cleansed by the water, he must bow at the gates and make his way across three wet stones sprinkled with salt, then prostrate himself on the last rock before the altar, for their blessing and approval. So must Suzaku – and so he already has, shortly before Lelouch was led to the banks for his turn.

Lelouch was raised with stories of Britannian gods and their winged, fire-breathing steeds. If there is magic and divine blessing to be believed in, Lelouch has only known it to be found in bond with and on the backs of dragons; in the seeming immortality and untraceable whereabouts of the bearers who bring them. But here he has left Britannia behind, a sea across and six years ago, and if he is to join with Suzaku’s house, then the culture and gods of his new people are to be accepted and respected, at the very least. There is no denying, either, that it is the vision given to Kaguya that has brought him here to begin with and opened the way.

And so Lelouch does as he is bid.

What remains is an afternoon spent mostly receiving more briefing and instruction. He is fed, bathed again, his lessons in the Ashigaru tongue are begun. Kaguya informs him of how the ceremony will proceed, how she will present them before Suzaku’s court and the people before the final feast, demonstrates how to hold the shallow and wide-mouthed _sake_ cup and sip from it in proper ceremonial fashion.

All the while they keep the partitions and doors leading to the different rooms in the house meticulously shut unless moving between rooms, and he is kept carefully from Suzaku, who, he is told, must go through one more set of prayers for his ascendancy (as well as virility) as a mated _shogun._

When the sun is halfway through its descent Kaguya sends him out to the spring once more after placing three small, smooth pieces of elk bone in his palm. This time he must go alone, rinse the bones with his hands and bring them personally before the altar. Her instructions are precise. Three steps across the wet rocks, and on his knees at the last. The bones are not to leave his hands. The sun is warm now on the back of his neck, on the rocks as he crosses them barefooted, kissing the skin of his hands softened by the baths and spring water.

When he returns to Kaguya the maidens bring him back to the room she first received him in, where she is seated at the low table with three other pieces of bone already in front of her on a silk cloth with markings. The partition toward the hallway has been opened, and he sees the maidens who ushered Suzaku to his rooms the evening before, standing in waiting by another set of doors.

Kaguya receives the bones from him, rolls them in a small lacquer bowl and then casts them among the rest. When she takes in how they fall around the markings, she looks up at him with a bright smile and announces,

“Today is an auspicious date, and the gods have smiled on both _Ue_ _-_ _sama_ and the Dragon Prince. See to them both with care and get them ready. They’ve a long few hours ahead of them.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Suzaku next sees Lelouch it is when they have both been brought, newly dressed and ready, to the front veranda of the house.

From his waiting room he hears Kaguya’s proclamation when she receives Lelouch’s elk bones and completes the divination; within the next half hour the maidens work, swift and professional. His hands and feet are washed again, his hair groomed although there is a stubbornness to his slight curls which remains in some places, his skin prepared with light, faintly scented oil. The robes he is dressed in are ones which were commissioned by Kaguya the day he rode back with the news that he and the Prince had come to an agreement – layers of cotton and silk, mostly white, red lining the hems of the sleeves and rich in the broad decorative stole that is draped over one shoulder and secured under his _obi_. Spiraling in graceful flight all across the red silk are birds with wings shaped like flames and embroidered in gold. It is fine work.

Lelouch’s ceremonial robes parallel his, a deep blue for his own silken stole and the gold embroidery depicting dragons in their painting style – more serpentine than Suzaku understands Britannia’s dragons to be, but no less graceful than the fire birds woven across his shoulder.

Lelouch lifts long lashes to meet his eyes – and he is stunning and beautiful, perhaps more so than the day Suzaku first met him, ink-dark hair framing finely sculpted cheekbones and his hand even softer than he remembers, when Suzaku lifts it up in his. The smile gracing Lelouch’s lips is small, but steady and unabashed, and Suzaku feels warmth spreading and something quickening in his chest at the reminder that this is what they have decided, that this will soon be his mate.

There is guilt again, too, in that moment, a small coiling of uncertainty at the thought of what he has not yet revealed. If all were fair – he would give to Lelouch the same bare honesty Lelouch seems to have freely given him, but Suzaku cannot bear the thought of what he may–– what he will think upon learning how Suzaku truly became _shogun._ Nor will the revelation be in line with what Kaguya and Tohdoh have advised, at least for now. _When you are bonded,_ Kaguya said, when he first returned with the news, _the time will come, and you will know it._

Her eyes, however, had worried a little, and Suzaku knows why. It feels deceitful, no matter the reasoning that Lelouch’s end goal will likely involve a similar act, that it is what brought Lelouch to him in the first place and that it was what had kept the clan from reaching the brink of all-out war.

But he cannot be selfish any longer, and he must do what is necessary and what is wisest, so Suzaku pushes all remaining unease down and smiles back, and hopes that when the time comes, Lelouch will indeed understand.

They turn to face the procession – a small line-up of guards in formal dressing who will join Kaguya and her priestesses in accompanying them along the walk to the Kururugi shrine, the long climb up the stairs carved into the hill. Among them are Sayoko and Jeremiah – who gives a respectful bow of his head when he makes eye contact with them both.

Word of Kaguya’s vision and the news that Suzaku will take the exiled Prince for a pair bond has long been spreading among the populace, but they have kept the details of the marriage quiet until the day before, and deliberately withheld fanfare for Lelouch’s arrival – arrangements both he and Lelouch agreed upon as cautionary measures until Lelouch was safe within Edo’s walls and under Kaguya’s care. It is after all impossible to tell if there are any around who would stand to gain from a sabotage of the union or who would bear irrational hatred toward the Prince simply because of his lineage.

But he knows his people as ones who are not easily given to blind rage, and they know the rumors surrounding Lelouch’s exile as well as his court does. As of the last evening’s announcement, it appears that both curiosity and (dare he hope?) a celebratory mood have crept into the air; some have emerged from their houses to catch a glimpse of the procession from a respectful distance, and still more will be allowed into the _bakufu_ courtyard later, where they will complete the ceremony.

Lelouch walks calmly beside him, fully aware of, yet seemingly untroubled by how they are now the center of attention. It is the straight-backed posture of one with purpose, the same steadfastness that saw Suzaku kneeling before him in the gardens, and Suzaku thinks of how Lelouch must have already fully prepared himself for this the moment he said, “I will.”

They reach the foot of the hill near the _bakufu_ residence, where the evening sunlight bathes all in a soft glow and warms Lelouch’s eyes as they share a glance. Suzaku smiles and rubs a thumb gently across the back of Lelouch’s hand, still linked with his.

Sundown. At this time of the month it is the one hour where the sun meets the moon in the sky; an auspicious date and time for any alpha-omega bonding, he recalls Kaguya telling him with a twinkle in her eye. He recalls the furious blush he could not stop at her emphasis that the full moon due a night later would grant him stronger release, primed for mutual pleasure and the conception of healthy children to preserve the line.

But for now they must complete the rites, present themselves before the shrine of his household, and so Suzaku tries to ignore the impression of running a hand further up the pale skin on an arm, of cupping Lelouch by a shoulder and pulling him close.

The stairs are ascended, the guards forming two neat lines at the edges, the grounds purified with salt that Kaguya draws and sprinkles from her robes, their prayers and a sacred _sakaki_ branch offered to the altar at the very top. Lelouch’s movements match his own, a conscientiousness to the press of his hands and the line of his back that only barely betrays his newness as he bows before the shrine. He has learned fast and Kaguya has taught him well.

It is not the most difficult moment (even if it means, for Suzaku, asking for leniency too, from a house whose blood he has spilt). If anything, that moment arrives when they enter the courtyard of the _bakufu_ residence, toward the dais leading into the front hall where his father would receive reports and emissaries and hold court.

The shogunal residence is large and spread wide, its rooms connected and constructed around several gardens and ponds. But they do not build towers as the Britannians do, and the courtyard, with its ground of smooth stones and its size, is an ideal place for functions like this. Beyond the great doors, swung open from the first wall, the crowd that has gathered parts for their procession: commoners first – parents, too, with their children, their faces too numerous for him to immediately pick out any familiar ones – and, nearer to the front, waiting by the low tables arranged right before the dais on either side, are the remaining members of his council, his chief civil officers, and at least one military commander or captain from each of Ashigaru’s cities. The air here is almost thick with a certain anticipation; it is in the curiosity of the crowd that falls to a hushed murmur after the two drum beats announcing their arrival, it is in the quiet watchfulness of his clan leaders – many of them older and wiser – even as they bow with perfect discipline to welcome their _shogun_ ’s approach on the center path toward the dais.

For many, the first time they lay eyes on the Dragon Prince of the rumors will be the same night they witness him being sworn in as their new _m_ _idai._ And vision or no vision, rumor or no rumor, Suzaku thinks it must still be a strange sight for some of them, to look upon the joining of Ashigaru’s leadership with Britannian blood.

They ascend the short steps of the dais, a small river of red and white priestess robes and the formal blue of their guards, who arrange themselves into the backdrop on each side of the platform. Only Kaguya remains in front of them when they turn to face their onlookers. Suzaku takes a breath, only then realizing that his chest feels as though it has been tightened and bound. A glance at Lelouch presents him with a steady expression, violet eyes that are analyzing the sight before him, although – without shifting his gaze – Lelouch’s fingers grip his a little more firmly in answer, and that is when Suzaku realizes that he has given Lelouch’s hand a small squeeze first, too.

The torches and lamps have already been lit, but there is still enough light from the dimming sky to see some of the expressions before them clearly, too – Kirihara with his critical gaze, though the usual displeasure in the set of his mouth is at present a thin, neutral line. Asahina’s face reflects his. Chiba, directly behind Tohdoh, looks like he does – solemn and regal but approving, the only glaring difference between them at that moment the single red stole across Tohdoh’s uniform that distinguishes him as one of the council and Chief General of Ashigaru’s _shi seiken._ There is hopefulness, too, in the eyes of parents clutching toddlers in the masses behind – and Suzaku’s heart beats in answer to it, but the collective bated breath as they wait is the same as the one now caught in his throat.

The challenge here is not directly one of authority, not when sentiment toward his taking of a mate has been largely positive and when the rest of the leadership has agreed to an alliance with one of Lelouch’s standing. It is only that they are young, and to inspire confidence in all who are watching them now, they must at least show that they are certain of what they are doing.

But it is not Suzaku who will speak just yet. Even with the obscuring curtain of black hair falling down her back, Suzaku can recognize the calm smile in his cousin’s voice as Kaguya steps forward to address the crowd, a natural just as she has been in the role she stepped into, once the gift given to her was recognized.

“There is a saying in the old scrolls that a leader without a good mate is like a house without a central pillar.” Despite her small stature, Kaguya’s voice carries in their local language, clear and ringing across the respectful silence offered to them. “It has been nearly three moons since the gods granted us a vision, word that a wyvern of victory will rise from the union of the fire bird and a dragon. We know, and we will come to further know our fire bird Suzaku as protector and guardian of the Ashigaru realm. But tonight I am pleased to announce that we have found him his dragon – and I humbly present to you, with the blessing of the gods, your _shogun_ Kururugi Suzaku and Lelouch vi Britannia of Westeros, the Prince who will be his mate.”

She steps slightly aside to allow them into full view, smiling at them, and Lelouch nods briefly at him, an indication that he has words for them too, and that he has understood enough of either Kaguya’s speech or the procedure to deem this an appropriate moment for it. Suzaku answers with his own nod. It is right; Lelouch is new to them and foreign, and they will want to hear what he has to say. Lelouch releases his hand, slips both palms into his sleeves as he takes a step forward, a gesture used to portray humility when speaking. Suzaku sees Kaguya assess the movement with approval.

But Lelouch’s voice, when he opens his mouth to speak, resonates even more loudly than Kaguya’s– rich, deep, and carried to the inner edges of the wall. “Many of you know that before I came to this land, I had a sister.” A soft ripple through the crowd behind the officers – it is confirmation of some of the things they have heard. “Her name was Nunnally. She was a girl with a beautiful smile, too easy to love. She gave her kindness and empathy freely to all.” His words flow steadily with the same conviction Suzaku remembers from their first meeting, crisp with Yayoi consonants. All eyes are still on them, rapt with attention.

“After the attack on our villa she was blinded, and crippled, and we were robbed of our mother, but she never gave up her hope. Every day without fail, she’d weave a prayer wreath to the gods that she knew, but it wasn’t to ask for her own sight or healing. Nunnally wished for a gentle world that would be kinder, and fairer – because she knew, especially after that attack – _she knew_ that the Britannian Empire was not. She knew that the world both outside and inside of the palace was cruel, and that she was hardly its most unfortunate victim.

“My one regret,” Lelouch’s voice does not falter, though he does let it lower and soften briefly, “is that I lacked the power to help see those prayers answered before her death.”

Another murmur passes over the audience – sympathy, and, if the hardening expression on Kallen’s face below the dais is any indication of the rest – an anger that is resurfacing and materializing as common ground, instead of any rising suspicion toward Lelouch. Suzaku holds his breath and watches. They are heavy words that do not befit a wedding, but they are necessary, and Lelouch, it seems, is not wasting any time.

“And,” Lelouch continues. The hard light of determination in his eyes remains. “It is because of those prayers that I now stand before you and your honorable _shogun._ Britannia’s rule is unfeeling and will carry no justice for the weak. And with a system that cares so little for the people under it, there can be no true peace. Already, its cruelty has taken loved ones from some of you. I share your pain. To help you stop Britannia and fulfill my sister’s dying wish, I promise you that I will do everything I can.” The words burn with the declaration like the flames from the surrounding torches. Suzaku notices how he is tactfully not mentioning anything about dragons – but already, it is an introduction that all here tonight will remember.

Lelouch is not yet finished. “Today you have accepted me into your leadership as Lord Kururugi’s pair bond. It is an honor that I am grateful for, and one that I will work to be worthy of.” There is a moment, then, of surprise and confusion as Lelouch slowly lowers himself to his knees. Suzaku feels it in himself, and from Kaguya at the side, then sees Kaguya suppress it, as the understanding reaches him just as quickly. “It is said that the greatest task and burden of any leader is to serve.” Lelouch says. “In this we will endeavor and I ask,” – this time some of the gasps are collectively audible, a noticeable shift among the commoners – and Lelouch ends with his palms and shoulders pressed to the ground and a petition in a perfectly enunciated phrase from their own language, “for the honor of your assistance hereafter.”

To bow like this should not have been a necessary part of Lelouch’s speech. It is an act already completed by Suzaku when he first took up his father’s post, thus by virtue of being joined to Suzaku as his mate, Lelouch does not need to repeat the formality – but there is value in the gesture all the same, and Suzaku has understood. From barely a day’s instruction with Kaguya, Lelouch has made inference, and he is not doing it just for the common people’s trust and assurance. It is for the whole council and court, and all the military commanders gathered, more than half of whom have lived more years than them, young and inexperienced no matter their abilities or positions. It is a promise, meant to convince that he will strive to lead unselfishly, to listen to counsel and to the needs of his people – and an appeal to all who are present, for their support.

Suzaku lets himself react. “The Prince speaks for us both,” he speaks firmly, for the first time on the dais, and brings his own knees and then shoulders to the ground to mirror Lelouch beside him. “I, too, ask humbly once more for the honor of your assistance.”

From his peripheries he sees Kaguya folding her hands in front, bending deep at the waist. The guards lining both sides, following suit. Movement from right below the dais – Tohdoh, and Kirihara, the council members – dropping to their knees – and he cannot see further but does not need to look to know that the rest are folding too, row after row, a gesture of acceptance and a supplication for their guidance in return.

It is perhaps only a few moments, but it feels like his heart has been pounding for an entire minute, the way it was when he was sworn in on a bright morning with the smell of Genbu’s blood still fresh in his mind. Then Kaguya says, softly, “You may rise.”

They lift their heads. Below, a wave of movement once more as the audience rises as well. He catches Tohdoh’s eye in the firelight, sees his mentor give him a subtle look equivalent to a nod of approval. Lelouch’s hand is still warm when he takes it again to help him back to his feet, and he is unable to tell for that moment if the slight tremor he feels between their hands is from both their relief, or only his own.

Kaguya is motioning maidens forward. “Bring forth the wine.”

The _sake_ is brought, two priestesses with finely sculpted flasks, a third with three _sakazuki_ cups stacked according to size on a tray.

This is a ritual, too – they will stand close, at an angle half-facing their audience and each other; they will be the first to drink this evening, thrice, from three different sized cups that they will exchange.

Three times, with three sips from each cup, and he must drink the _sake_ only on the third raise to his lips, before the same cup is given to Lelouch – and filled again by the maiden waiting by his side. This, too, Lelouch manages with enough steadiness and finesse, his eyes locking with Suzaku’s over the rim of the shallow cup as he raises it delicately to his own lips. Suzaku feels _sake_ slip, smooth and heated down his throat, and the last cup is passed over to Lelouch.

With a toast after the nuptial exchange it will be finished, and they will be married – and the heads of the guards of their joined lines newly affirmed.

“To lead the toast for all,” Kaguya says, her voice ringing loud once more for all to hear, “We invite the two appointed guardians over this new union – Shinozaki Sayoko, as head of the Elite Guard,” Sayoko detaches gracefully from the line of guards and comes to stand by him, her presence warm and familiar despite the head that she keeps bowed in formality. “And as head of _Midai_ _-_ _sama’s_ personal guard, we call upon Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, the only Britannian who has loyally followed the Prince across the sea.” Jeremiah comes forward in similar fashion; if he is surprised at the high rank granted to him, it does not show on his face. But it is clear, from the way he arrives to stand by Lelouch’s side, that he is the least out of place next to his lord, and the man deserves no less.

It is the arrangement he has settled on upon consultation with Kaguya. If there are any last objections, his councilors and officers must voice them now, or refuse to partake in the toast that Sayoko and Jeremiah will lead – but their onlookers are still respectfully silent, as bowls of _sake_ are given to their two chief guards, and as Jeremiah and Sayoko raise them to the air, ready.

Kaguya speaks for them, a declaration that reaches the ends of the walls. “May the gods smile upon this union evermore, and may the light of this sun and moon, the flames of both dragon and fire bird burn even brighter together – bringing harmony and peace that will endure over all our lands.”

“For harmony and peace.” Two voices next to them echo her steadily in the traditional Ashigaru salute – Jeremiah has learned, too, over the length of a day and a night with them.

The response from below is unanimous, as every councilor, commander and officer with a bowl of _sake_ raises it in turn, the answer a near shout across the courtyard before the wine is tipped with a single, smooth movement down the back of each throat.

“ _For harmony and peace._ ”

The words stay ringing in Suzaku’s ears long after they have passed. It is done – and it is difficult to believe that it is, the marriage sealed before all their witnesses within such a small moment. He is given little time to fully process it before Kaguya is announcing their final task – the final act that, as _shogun_ and _midai_ , they must publicly complete, for the reassurance of all who are present.

“The couple will now be served their tea.”

Her words need no specifics. It is what he has spoken of to Lelouch, not too long ago while walking in a garden filled with foreign flowers. He sees the line of Lelouch’s back straighten further, just ever so slightly beside him. Jeremiah and Sayoko are bowing neatly away to reassume their positions at the edges of the dais.

Suzaku does not know for sure how weddings are held in Britannia, if there is any less fuss over rituals and perhaps more openness with intimacy – but he does know that for them, this will be the last and most intimate rite deemed appropriate for an evening of formalities. The priestesses have advised them on this, too – for it is an act that requires carefulness and precision to be executed with grace, almost a performance for viewers as much as it is significant to their own coming together as mates.

They must now turn to face each other fully. Suzaku lifts his gaze to Lelouch’s, and is met with a look of calm determination and an undercurrent of something else he cannot quite read – but sees elsewhere in the slow breath Lelouch is drawing, the firelight dancing on his face. He wonders if he looks the same, his exhale unfurling steadily from his chest even as he feels his pulse quicken.

From here – here there will truly be no turning back, though the reality for them has already been decided, set into motion long ago.

One of the priestesses who brought them the _sake_ earlier is lowering herself before them again, in her hands this time a tray extended with two porcelain cups, deeper but smaller than the one which held their first drink of wine for the evening. In each cup, thick and dark, sits a liquid brewed from herb and root which he knows will eventually bring forth the near primal urges of their bodies that are usually suppressed – a drink reserved only for occasions such as this.

Because they are of similar height, it is perhaps not as complicated as it might have been, his mind supplies, almost as if trying to distract from the gravity of the moment as he picks up his cup with his right hand and Lelouch does the same, both of them drawing in, slowly and closer still, judging the distance they will need. It is close enough to feel Lelouch’s breath on his skin, to kiss if either one of them were to lean in, now, but that is not the act required for this custom. The whole point is a grand display of the drinking as they cross their cup-holding hands, wrists first – and as they then extend and complete the gesture by twining their arms around each other’s in order to bring their cups to their lips.

Lelouch’s eyes do not leave his, and neither of them wavers. On his tongue the tea is bitter but washes quickly down, surprisingly light despite its concentrated appearance, different from the heady fragrance of the crushed leaves that are used for their suppressants. Lelouch swallows, too, barely a flicker moving across his face, and slowly, they untwine their arms and come apart.

A sound erupts from below, rising from somewhere in the back before it quickly fills the air of the entire courtyard. It takes Suzaku awhile to realize that it is the sound of cheering and clapping, to see the brilliance in Kaguya’s smile as she nods at them. Lelouch smiles at him too, his eyes bright, and as their priestess bows and slips away with the emptied cups Suzaku smiles warmly back, entwines their fingers and draws Lelouch fully against him, as close as they are allowed to be for the evening and enough to settle his other hand on Lelouch’s waist. Lelouch looks taken by surprise but does not resist, the first short laugh escaping him above the noise of the _taiko_ drums starting up from beside the dais, triumphant.

There are mantles being brought for them – red and blue outer robes with embroidery matching that of their stoles, draped over their shoulders both as ornamentation representing their new statuses and as an added shield from the night air. A wooden table is carried up the dais from behind the drummers stationed at the sides, and cushions for sitting – readying the platform for the feast to follow.

Below, the noise and clapping continues, and there are small smiles which have emerged on the faces of councilors and courtiers when he next passes his gaze over them, as far as he can see in the half-light. The mood has shifted now, fully into one of laughter and celebration, and it will be so for the rest of the evening, for to the people of his clan there is no further reason not to rejoice – Lelouch has appealed well to them as their new _midai_ , and it is done, it is completed, at last their _shogun_ has found his pillar and his mate.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Ue_ _-_ _sama,_ ” One of the captains among the remaining guests in the courtyard is bowing to Suzaku with the traditional address for his position. For a moment the loudness and gusto of his speech seems almost at odds with the typical decorum of the gesture. “Let us toast a last round of wine to you, please.” He says – or Lelouch thinks he says, from the similarity of the words to what they would have been in Yayoi.

The captain – Tamaki, was it? – flushed with the appearance of one happily losing his inhibitions to alcohol (not that he is striking Lelouch as a person with many in the first place), is referring to the rest of their company still gathered below the dais. Kallen, Inoue, Sugiyama, and a few other military personnel of similar rank. The feasting and the evening’s entertainments of dance and song have officially ended; they have already descended the dais to thank and see off all guests. Only servants and the necessary guard remain, along with those in the military who seem to be closer to them in age – including Tamaki, who has apparently decided that the several additional toasts from well-wishers that they have both had to drink to during the feast are not additional enough. There seems to be a murmured round of agreement from the soldiers with him. Lelouch is unclear if they mean to toast to them both, or only Suzaku.

“Tamaki,” Suzaku smiles from beside him, polite and apologetic. “I couldn’t.” Probably a decline out of prudence rather than an inability to drink any further; they have had quite a few rounds since the start of the celebrations, but the _sakazuki_ cups they were given hold only a couple of sips each time at most, and the _sake_ has not been heavy enough that Lelouch is experiencing anything more than a mild pleasant hum – which he knows will wear off within the hour. Suzaku, who has drunk no more than he has, seems to be no different, and is certainly doing a much better job at holding his alcohol than Tamaki is. There is an added mellowness to his eyes, and less tension in the line of his back than there was earlier in the evening – but nothing more.

“Come now,” Tamaki is grinning, formalities forgotten. “Just a last few –” Lelouch is not certain of the rest but he does make out a word that sounds like _brothers_ , and then _sisters_ – which would explain the casual manner Tamaki has slipped into. Suzaku is lord and these are his soldiers, but right now they are also his friends, wanting only to congratulate.

Suzaku turns to him, hesitant, and Tamaki identifies him as the source of Suzaku’s reluctance almost in the same breath. “Ah – surely our _gracious_  and _beautiful_ _Midai_ _-_ _sama_ will understand,” he manages with two hands clasped and raised to Lelouch in obeisance, as well as surprisingly clear Britannian for one without native command of the language and supposedly drunk to boot. Lelouch is less clear if he actually means to sound so patronizing, but decides it will not matter. “It is custom here to be given a last round of drinks by friends, before joining a mate on a wedding night. It is a tradition honored _especially_ among soldiers.”

“Tamaki exaggerates,” Kallen cuts in, laughter underlying her voice. “There is no hard and fast rule. If it bothers you, then –”

“...I’ll be fine.” Lelouch squeezes Suzaku’s hand with a smile, giving his assent. The effects of the root tea are not supposed to be felt until the next day, and Jeremiah, who has already been familiarized with the grounds of the estate, will be able to escort him to the chambers ahead of Suzaku. His guard approaches dutifully when summoned at his glance and nod.

Suzaku answers with a similar grasp to his hand before releasing it, apologetic. “Sayoko will be there to help with whatever you need. I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Our many thanks, _Midai_ _-_ _sama_ ,” Tamaki bows – a ridiculously steep angle that makes Lelouch immediately revise his assessment of how drunk the man is – and then slings an arm around Suzaku’s shoulders as he straightens and declares, “We shall drink to his great endurance, so that later and tomorrow he will bring you satisfaction and _endless pleasure –_ ”

“ _Tamaki–_ ” Suzaku turns, rather amusingly, a very deep shade of red under the firelight, but looks as though he cannot find enough heart at that moment to shrug the gleeful man off his shoulders as the captain leads him to their table.

Lelouch says simply, “Don’t return him to me too drunk to walk straight.”

“We’ll make sure he stays in one piece,” Kallen promises, though she is also grinning, even while she makes obeisance and he and Jeremiah turn to take their leave. Lelouch lets the teasing slide; it is enough for now that the military seems to be supportive.

The walk back to his rooms is silent along the outer walkway of verandas separating the buildings from the gardens. The structures all sit slightly above the ground, but other than that, Ashigaru architecture is simple compared to Britannia’s, wood and sliding screen doors where there will be smooth arches, windows with colored glass and pearlescent stone in Pendragon. The main thing distinguishing the estate from the rest of what Lelouch has seen of Edo thus far – besides the finely sculpted roofs with their numerous tiles – is its size, the pristine upkeep of the gardens, the occasional presence of guards, flitting in and out of shadows while making their nightly rounds.

Jeremiah still has not said anything. Lelouch wonders if, for him, it feels any different from being taken in by the Ashfords – to be allowed, once again, to continue serving as guard and aide, but this time under an entirely new system, with rules and structure and reporting lines that he has not had to answer to for six years. Given the rank just bestowed on him, by now Jeremiah would likely have been briefed on much more than just the grounds of the _bakufu_ , especially if he has spent as much time under Sayoko’s instruction as Lelouch has under Kaguya. Lelouch would like to ask him for details, but doubts there is enough distance remaining to his chambers for it to be a productive discussion.

Instead he says, because he can sense that the man is contemplating, and because he is fairly certain it has to do with the authority so freely and quickly granted to him by Suzaku and Kaguya –  “Are you questioning the decision, Sir Jeremiah?”

“You and the lord shogun have bestowed upon me a great honor, my Prince. One that I am more than happy to accept.” Jeremiah answers steadily, then hesitates for a beat. “I was only wondering if there may be others here who are better suited for the position.”

Someone native, more familiar with the land and territory and command they are still learning about and thus more able to protect, should the need arise. But not someone Lelouch will immediately be able to trust.

To have Jeremiah installed in a position akin to a personal knight shows a sensitivity toward both their senses of security, and thus displays trust and goodwill. “Do you not think the other leaders would have raised this if they feel the same way?”

Jeremiah gives him a small smile. They have stopped by a set of doors, the soft trill of crickets around them. “These people seem to value honor and loyalty highly. I think that they respect it when they see it.”

Subtle, with more than one interpretation, but unoffensive. A good answer.

Lelouch turns to face him fully. “There’s no one else I would rather have defending me if all else should fall.”

“And there’s no place in the world I would rather be.” Quietly now, with a slow and genuine smile. Jeremiah has always known, since before their exile, that Lelouch would never be able to return his devotion in the same way – yet here he remains, handsome and regal in his new robes and somehow a touch sad in the soft light, and for a moment part of Lelouch feels the urge to cup and warm the side of the man’s face against the night air. But the time for that is now long past.

Lelouch says, softly, and does not move, “I am sorry that I cannot repay you with anything more than my gratitude.” The ceremonial robes sit heavily on his shoulders, layers of fine silk and a reminder of the path awaiting him beyond the sliding doors. That it is not a choice he will regret, he is certain, but –

Jeremiah only dips his head in a bow, low and solemn. “Being able to serve at your side has always been more than enough.”

The light from the doorway shifts and Lelouch turns to see that Sayoko has appeared, changed into simpler garments and awaiting him with hands resting in front of her robes. Jeremiah sends her a nod of acknowledgement and the two exchange brief bows of respect.

“Goodnight, _midai_ _-_ _sama._ ” The title sounds foreign coming from Jeremiah’s lips, but Lelouch manages to stop himself from reacting. It will be something they will both get used to soon enough.

“Goodnight,” he tells him softly, and watches the beta take his leave before turning to let Sayoko lead him in. She brings him down a hallway and into a wide room with a wooden bench, separated from what Lelouch presumes is the bathroom by another set of sliding doors. It looks similar to the one at the cleansing grounds, though more spacious.

There are sets of fresh clothing next to him on the bench, where she invites him to sit before she removes the earring he was adorned with and helps him out of his outer robes.

“In Ashigaru the mate who is joining the house is given the honor of the first bath.” Sayoko explains to him, warm although her touch and words remain professional. She finishes folding his outer robes and setting them to one side. “The water has been warmed and prepared, you may go in when you are ready.”

She is moving away to let him finish the rest of his undressing, so Lelouch thanks her in Ashigaru and she exits with a neat bow.

The basin, when he opens the partition to have a look, once again holds night flowers scattered over the surface of the water. Lelouch washes himself and then climbs in, lets the heat of the water diffuse the ache from his limbs brought about by sitting so long with his legs folded under him at the knee. He will have to determine how best it is done, or if the clanspeople have simply developed remarkable endurance for sitting in such positions.

His mind sorts through the other events of the day – Kaguya’s advice and instruction, the faces of the councilors and other elders, some gazes remaining more severe than others even after their endorsement with wine. The positive reaction to the speech he crafted after Kaguya briefed him on the ceremony, and the celebration of the crowd all throughout the feast. The warmth of Suzaku’s gaze, the public solemnization of the bond they are to form, his scent when he pulled Lelouch against him, mixed with the same mildly fragrant oil that was rubbed on Lelouch’s skin – and for one breath, Lelouch’s heartbeat quickens. He dips his head once underneath the water, then decides to climb out.

He finds himself wondering foolishly still, if C.C. will show, if she will even be able to make it here if she so desires. She is a woman who does as she pleases, he remembers his mother saying to him, and there is really no telling when she’ll visit next. It will be best for now, not to hope for anything, to settle here and assist where he can based on the assumption that she is gone for good, just like many other things.

For now, Lelouch must look only to what he can and will doubtlessly gain.

When he emerges, dressed in the night robe laid out for him, Sayoko is waiting for him again and directs him to the next room, bare on first glance except for the futon laid out across the mats and a low table in one corner. A servant brings in a hot pot of tea, which is set down next to the cups on the table. By the door, Sayoko pays obeisance. “The _shogun_ is on his way and should be with you shortly. Will there be anything else you need, _Midai_ _-_ _sama_?”

“Not for the moment, no.”

“Just call for me if you do,” She smiles warmly then, the formality relaxing and slipping into something more motherly, and at Lelouch’s nod closes the door and leaves him to take in his surroundings proper. There are lamps blazing in two corners, providing both light and heat, and an alcove in one wall with a small vase of flowers, but other than that their sleeping quarters are minimalist, too – many things in Ashigaru seem to be, save for the sophistication and exquisite detail to be found in their craftsmanship. It is there in the sculpt of the tea cups and the painting on them, in the fine embroidery of his ceremonial robes, even in the intricacy of the tiny flowers printed inconspicuously on a section of the _yukata_ he is wearing now _._ Opulence here is not present otherwise, despite it being the domain of clan heads – which is perhaps a good thing.

Lelouch finds a light, mild-smelling tea in the pot and pours himself a cup, reaching for the scrolls placed at the side of the table. There are a couple containing poetry, readable since the characters of Ashigaru script are almost identical to that of the common tongue – the rest seem to be the guides to Yayoi and Ashigaru speech Sayoko promised him from the day before.

The tea has a smooth and cleansing taste that he likes. Lelouch finishes his cup and then settles himself on the futon instead to read; there is little else to be done in the meantime. From the walls of the next room drifts in the occasional muffled sound of water – Suzaku washing, perhaps – the rest is quiet. Lelouch straightens when he detects soft footfalls outside the door.

It opens to reveal Suzaku, dressed in his own night robe, his brown hair still damp and himself, thankfully, looking refreshed and nowhere near inebriated.

“I have something for you,” Suzaku says softly as he slides the door shut behind him, and comes to sit cross-legged before Lelouch by the futon before producing the long spear-like item at his back, presenting it in formal manner as one would a sword, with it resting across both hands.

Lelouch shifts cloth aside to reveal a curved blade, gleaming and attached to a long pole, its wood streaked with red and gold in fine, twisting patterns down the entire shaft. “It was my mother’s,” says Suzaku as Lelouch runs his fingers reverently across the paint – the intricacy is indeed in their craftsmanship – “while she was alive. It’s only right that you have it now.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lelouch murmurs, moved that Suzaku would immediately gift him with something presumably so personal, though he knows his expression is wry when he looks up. “But I’ve never been adept at swordplay.”

From young he found that he had more interest in books and strategy games than in swinging a blade about; it wasn’t that he was completely inept at his swordfighting lessons, but he could see that he was being outperformed in them by almost every sibling, even Euphemia. The lessons were physically exhausting for him and Marianne had not disapproved when he requested that they be ceased for him entirely, in order for him to devote the time to more worthwhile pursuits.

Suzaku smiles, understanding. “The _naginata_ is much easier to use for defense than a sword is.” He slides the cloth back over the weapon before growing more quiet. “It’s... a good skill to have, even though I hope you’ll never find a need for it.”

“I will need instruction.” If the blade is an heirloom of the _midai_ and if it is important to Suzaku that he learn its art, then Lelouch will not refuse to at least try.

“Tohdoh is a good teacher,” Suzaku stretches to settle the staff carefully on the alcove. “Or I can teach you myself…” A pause, as he seems to catch himself, “once you are more settled in, of course.” His hands have come to rest on both knees, eyes and voice apologetic as he studies Lelouch’s face. “It must’ve been long enough a day for you.”

“Far from the worst.” Lelouch smiles, evenly, but does not move. He is vaguely aware that he has left the scrolls rolled up by the side of the futon.

Suzaku looks down. “...We don’t have to – I won’t –” Unexpectedly struggling with Britannian words where he was previously fluent. “...We can just rest, until tomorrow, if that is what you’d prefer.”

“Oh?” Lelouch’s surprise shows itself in a short breath. The offer is gracious, but completely unexpected, and he is unable to tell if it is also part of the Ashigaru way of doing things. He has assumed it only pragmatic, sensible to get to know a partner’s body before being driven to mate and bond under heat, a preparation to minimize anxiety and uncertainty for what they must do. There is sense, too, to be found in being well-rested before the long stretch that is due to kick in, but he has hardly thought it as crucial as the former practicality. And Suzaku’s words are at odds with what his scent, mild and clean and faintly like sandalwood, is communicating to Lelouch – if Lelouch defers this, it will be an exercise in self-control that he now has no doubt Suzaku will concede to without misgivings, though it all seems rather unnecessary, considering how Lelouch has already agreed to mate with him, _has_ become his mate, and is himself… Flummoxed, not expecting the polite consideration being offered to him in spite of their attraction, and trying – for the two seconds that pass – to maintain his composure without appearing otherwise.

What Lelouch says in the next breath is, “And I don’t suppose you’d prefer to demonstrate how the moon would love a sun?”

“I...” Suzaku looks embarrassed, and then surprised, like a revelation is dawning on his face. “Have you never?”

Lelouch feels his cheeks heat, briefly, much to his own chagrin. “The... massager has always been... adequate.” He is certain Suzaku knows what he is referring to. Suppressants mask the elevated nature of their scents during heat, and make heats bearable enough that he can see to daily business without having to attend to the itch, though the feeling of want and need is never completely alleviated. The first time it happened at the Ashfords’, Milly sent a servant to slip the metal instrument to him discreetly – it was average-sized, but proved just right for him, cold and hard but easy to clean and enough to bring him the relief he sometimes sought. Lelouch would use it twice or thrice a year whenever a hand on his cock proved insufficient, and keep it locked away in one of his drawers at all other times. To seek out partners would not have been wise, given his identity, nor has the idea ever particularly appealed to him.

“I suppose it might have been different,” he says quietly, “had I remained in Pendragon.” Were he not exiled, were he to have had knights around his age who would have enjoyed a tumble and only increased their devotion to him while the affection lasted. Lelouch will never know –– but it is probably the case for Suzaku, who as the shogunal heir has probably had no lack of willing partners since coming into maturity himself.

The thought must have shown on his face, because Suzaku takes his hand and says in a near whisper, “Three.” Open and honest. “That’s all I’ve...... before this. Only one was an omega male, but... with your permission, I can show you what I know.”

The careful distance he maintains from Lelouch is unimposing, unassuming just like the words. Perfectly polite, in a way that assures Lelouch that Suzaku will not push, nor begrudge him if he says no. In his eyes, the same earnestness that drew both Lelouch’s empathy and affection during their walk in the gardens.

But unlike that first meeting, there will be no more talk of politics, not tonight.

Lelouch feels the tip of his tongue press against the back of closed teeth, aware of how his pulse is already flaring despite himself.

“Then, show me.”

A smile blooms across Suzaku’s face, warm and gentle in answer. Lelouch makes room for him and he shifts slowly forward, fully and more comfortably onto their futon, fingers twining with Lelouch’s like they did on the dais. Lelouch lets himself be drawn slowly toward him, watching as Suzaku scans his face, as if still looking for any sign of hesitation, as if hyper-aware now that this will involve several firsts for Lelouch. A hand, gentle on the back of his neck and sliding into the ends of his hair. Lelouch closes his eyes when he sees Suzaku close his.

The first kiss is a soft touch, chaste, but lingering without fully withdrawing, Suzaku’s breath feather-light on his lips. Lelouch uses the moment to shift his jaw, just slightly and without opening his eyes, enough to let their lips brush instead of remain still – and lets Suzaku press forward and press them gently closer. Suzaku lifts his other hand to cup Lelouch’s chin, coaxing him to an angle where it seems easier for their lips to meet and part, a slow press and the barest withdrawal, each touch growing bolder, more anchored than the last. His lips are moving against Lelouch’s now, and when Lelouch follows his lead and reciprocates, Suzaku traces a thumb over his cheekbone and draws back, enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes and whisper, “Nothing you’re not comfortable with.”

Lelouch nods in acknowledgement of the promise, a small movement which he knows Suzaku will feel in the hand cradling his jaw. He is sure that Suzaku can already feel, too, the way his heart is pulsing sharply in answer underneath his skin. On the next press together, the next crest of a thumb against his cheek, he parts his lips for Suzaku, and Suzaku licks against his teeth – and then slowly into his mouth.

Lelouch manages not to jump at the first touch of their tongues. It is strange, at first, but also warm and unexpectedly arousing, the stroke of Suzaku’s tongue against his own, the taste of Suzaku’s mouth, clean with a light hint of tea and any lingering scent of _sake_ already washed away. Was he given tea too, to wash down the alcohol before coming to the room?

It is almost absurd, the way his thoughts are flying in different directions to distract from the lingering undercurrent of nervousness – it _is_ unnerving, the fact that they are the same age but that he is so green here despite the confidence he can take in many other things. He realizes that he has no idea what to do with his hands, one which has settled on Suzaku’s hip, the other still curled on the futon even as they lean into each other. Best not to try anything foolish. Best indeed, supplies his mind as it finally settles enough, to continue letting Suzaku lead, with the slow, sensual deepening on each kiss, the soft breaths each time they pull away, the gentle slide of Suzaku’s hand over his shoulder blade and up and down his back, stroking as he pulls him closer.

The same hand dips to Lelouch’s waist, then to the small of his back, feeling for the knot of his _obi_ and pulling it open. There is a whisper of fabric and Lelouch opens his eyes as the belt holding his robe in place loosens and one sleeve slips from his shoulder. Suzaku’s eyes come open too, watching him, their faces now touching only at the tips of their noses. A tentative touch to his exposed collarbone. Lelouch does not shy away, so Suzaku is kissing him again, back to brief, soft presses of his lips which he then begins trailing down Lelouch’s jaw, to behind his ear, both hands slipping around Lelouch’s shoulders as the cloth, with the slightest shifting, parts and falls easily to his elbows.

Lelouch can hear his own breath trembling slightly in his throat, even as he tilts his chin to give Suzaku better access. Suzaku’s kisses are tender on the curve of his neck, his hands warm on his skin, gliding slowly down Lelouch’s arms and then across the plane of his chest, the touch growing more hesitant, almost as if questioning, waiting a little each time for him to make some objection. Lelouch holds himself still. Suzaku’s lips press lightly against his pulse point, his thumbs brushing over Lelouch’s nipples. Lelouch’s body reacts and he suppresses a shudder – though perhaps not quickly enough to stop Suzaku from pulling back to check on his expression. Before Lelouch can reassure him with words, what Suzaku sees evidently encourages him enough to continue, this time dipping his head down and following the gentle brush of fingers with the soft wetness of his mouth.

Lelouch feels a small sound of surprise escape himself; he has not expected it to be this sensitive. His hands find their own way to Suzaku’s shoulders and into the softness of his hair, holding him there as he struggles to even his own breathing. He is unsure if what he feels is Suzaku smiling briefly against his skin, but in the next moment Suzaku’s tongue furls around the nub, his mouth suckling very gently, and all thought disappears as Lelouch’s body curves around the sensation, his exhale long and harsh.

Suzaku is holding him too, supporting him, a hand light on his back while the other strokes Lelouch’s other nipple until the tiny nub of flesh pebbles as well under his fingertips. Suzaku draws back, breathing cool air over the nipple before licking it again, and then switches over. Lelouch can only hold on to him, fingers clutching at his shoulder and his breaths becoming shallower, faster. He is distantly aware that he is wet, wet already, enough that he can feel it between his thighs, his arousal trapped under fabric, his body responding to Suzaku’s ministrations and priming itself to be joined in one way or another with a mate.

That, however, brings the reminder that he ought not to be the only one being attended to, so when Suzaku next lifts his head, Lelouch pushes him back a little. It is worth the look of slight surprise on Suzaku’s face as his hand then drifts to the other man’s _obi_ , feeling its way behind for the belt’s knot. Lelouch finds it but then fumbles; he is not as used yet to the clothing style as Suzaku is.

Suzaku smiles, reaching behind himself. “Let me.”

The sash comes off in two quick tugs and Suzaku’s _yukata_ falls open, revealing the flat planes of his chest, the more defined muscles on his abdomen, the lithe body of one trained to do battle with agility and speed. Lelouch decides that it cannot be that complicated if he simply reciprocates, and so pushes the robe off Suzaku’s shoulders and presses his lips to the underside of Suzaku’s jaw, down to his ear, one hand moving to rub a thumb over his nipple.

Suzaku holds him back gently, his breathing still more even, though it shakes a little, too as Lelouch ventures to lick the lobe of his ear. Here at the intersection of jaw, ear and neck is where a person’s scent is the strongest, and Suzaku’s is pleasant and comforting, like wood and grass now twining with the soft sweetness of his arousal, and before Lelouch quite knows it he has shifted fully into Suzaku’s lap, straddling him with an arm winding around Suzaku’s shoulders, his initial focus on the nipple almost entirely forgotten as he kisses and nuzzles his neck, helplessly chasing the scent. Suzaku does not seem to mind, arms wrapping around his back to steady him as he buries his kisses, in turn, into Lelouch’s hair. Lelouch becomes aware that with every small shift of his hips he is now rubbing his clothed erection on Suzaku, but it is only when one particular thrust provides him with the feel of Suzaku’s own response – firm against his inner thigh – that he stills, and Suzaku uses that moment, cradling him carefully, to tip them both over onto the mattress.

The smile on his face when he looks down at Lelouch is warm with something helpless in it, and he runs the back of his fingers softly across Lelouch’s cheek, propped up on his elbows. Lelouch feels himself give a tentative smile in return, watching as green eyes take in his form almost reverently. It is a strange combination of self-satisfaction and self-consciousness to be feeling. Suzaku presses a palm into the one Lelouch has lying open by the side of his head, laces their fingers together and again they are kissing, soft and unhurried, a slow yielding of mouths and melding of tongues.

“...If I do something you don’t like, tell me to stop.” Suzaku murmurs against his lips when he next draws back, and that is all the warning Lelouch gets before Suzaku is trailing his kisses down, to his clavicle, over his chest and his torso to a point where his hands are removing the loosened _obi_ , parting the robe further, taking hold of the fabric of his underwear and pulling it slowly down and off.

Aroused, Lelouch knows that he is only slightly smaller than the size of his massager, but that is not the main distinction of his body’s capability and Lelouch listens to his better judgment and closes his eyes, knowing that Suzaku will find there more than twice the slick any alpha or beta male’s body is able to produce, already trickling past the cleft of his rear and probably onto the bedding. It isn’t something to be ashamed of, but it is somewhat embarrassing that he is already this wet, maybe already enough for them both.

Suzaku, thankfully, is silent, instead lifting one of his knees higher and pressing feather-light kisses to the inside of his thigh. He is sensitive there, too, to another’s touch – Lelouch feels the reflexive urge to close his legs together but fights it, and the reaction translates itself into a shiver that runs through his lower limbs. Suzaku’s lips reach his pelvic bone. He moves away, briefly, his hands stroking and coming to rest on both sides of Lelouch’s hips. Lelouch has a fairly good idea of what is coming next, but it doesn’t stop his body from jerking and curving upward the moment his cock is engulfed in soft, wet heat.

Suzaku holds him in place, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Lelouch’s hipbones but Lelouch barely feels it; the world reshapes itself around the sweet pressure and slide of Suzaku’s mouth and he is breathing harshly again, louder than before, his own mouth falling open because suddenly he cannot seem to get quite enough air.

Suzaku runs his tongue up his length and circles the head, pressing the tip softly against a tender spot on the underside, and Lelouch audibly chokes, his gulp turning into a gasp and his fingers clenching in the sheets. His partner takes it as a positive cue and refocuses his attention, circling with his tongue, sucking gently, and even more gently still, running the tip of his tongue up and down the same small section of sensitive skin. Lelouch turns his heated face into the pillow and tries desperately not to cry out, knowing that the guards are covering the area from the outer chambers and that Suzaku would have dismissed Sayoko and any remaining servants before coming in, but still not quite prepared at the idea of moaning till his voice is broken –– because that has never happened before, and that would mean letting go, exposing himself and surrendering completely, a control that he is only ready to release for full, unsuppressed heat. He does, however, find himself having to acknowledge the increasing probability of it happening here anyway, the feel of Suzaku’s tongue drawing increasingly hoarse gasps and pants from his throat, more and more helpless shudders of his hips against Suzaku’s steady grip.

Mercifully, this is when Suzaku releases his cock, with a last, soft suckle at its tip. Not so mercifully, this is also when he realizes that Suzaku is dipping lower, hands now smoothing down the outside of his thighs and then easing under his haunches, lifting him slightly and adjusting, kissing and licking down the small stretch of skin between his balls and his entrance, and then into the slick and the entrance itself.

He lets out another soft noise of surprise. It feels strange at first but very quickly gives way to a gentle tickle of pleasure – and then Suzaku moves the narrower front of his tongue in and out, does it again, and Lelouch nearly yelps, the sound dying on his lips as a strangled cry as he shudders and twitches into the contact.

There are fingers now, joining the tongue at his entrance, but only rubbing lightly and – oh gods – sliding through the moisture that has gathered there, that is still gathering there, the more Suzaku pleasures him with his mouth. And then Suzaku is drawing back, kissing a spot on his inner thigh with wet lips, and the tip of his tongue is replaced with a finger, sliding slowly, very slowly in, palm-up. Lelouch swallows, and twists a hand in the pillow, his heartbeat fluttering wildly against the cage of his chest. He knows this; he has done this himself – so it is not the slight and careful stretching, but the feel of Suzaku’s finger, warm inside him, moving back and forth, which he knows will soon find –

Lelouch manages not to flinch too hard at the first brush of his glands, gasping reedily at the rush of pleasure that blooms from his lower body. It is enough to let Suzaku pinpoint the stretch of skin to curl his fingertip against and stroke lightly, which is in turn enough to draw a slow, needy sob from him, and then another. That is when Suzaku’s lips close slowly around the head of his cock again, his finger moving in maddening circles against Lelouch’s prostate, and the first shocked, trembling cry escapes him, his whole body moving up the futon as if to pull reflexively away from the attention that is simultaneously too good and too much. Suzaku holds him with his free hand circled around his thigh, the finger of the other still circling inside him, his tongue drawing against the slit, his mouth sliding lower again, sucking. A second finger is joining the first, easing in, both thrusting slowly now against the stretch where he is the most sensitive –– then they slip back a little to brush him again in soft strokes as Suzaku’s mouth lifts off, blowing a small cooling stream of air against his cock before sinking back down. The world behind Lelouch’s eyelids sparks at its edges, focusing sharply on the pleasure within him and between his legs. His head is thrown back against the pillows, sheer stubbornness keeping his mouth shut, but he is breathing hard and desperately through his nose and Lelouch realizes, with some level of mortification, that he is whimpering, small helpless sounds that he has only ever made on the verge of climaxing on the massager during suppressed heat.

But he has no more room to care, the ache in him building, the need to draw in more air overtaking him after the next swallow he manages. The whimpers turn into low, open-mouthed half-sobs and moans. His parted robes are damp beneath his hips. If Suzaku keeps at it like this he is not going to last long enough to receive him ––

And the realization is what has Lelouch fighting against all else to say it, because he is not yet in heat, and his body will not yet be able to respond to another round so quickly –

“W-wait. Wait.” His voice is still itself, not thinned even though it does shake a little. Good.

Suzaku comes off his cock, and Lelouch pushes himself up onto his elbows to see him still nestled between his parted legs, looking up at him questioningly with his fingers stilling inside.

“I,” Lelouch begins, and then realizes that he has no idea how best to put it. _I’ll come,_ he does not say, but Suzaku seems to have read it in the flush on his face or felt it in him regardless, because he smiles and says softly,

“I know.”

As if he has not a care about his own need, which Lelouch very clearly felt before Suzaku laid them down on the futon and which he is certain has only increased by now despite the neglect. Their bodies are not so different, there.

“Are you not...?”

“... I am demonstrating," Suzaku says, soft and earnest and still smiling as though he considers that the only explanation he needs to give. There is a pause, and then, quietly, "I will honor what I said. We don't have to do this, right now. If you don't..."

If he doesn't what? Doesn’t want it? Isn’t ready? Is already so close to release that they might as well finish this as they were?

Lelouch says, “I do.” And then because he feels the need to clarify, and because he feels that for all of Suzaku’s endearing caution and consideration, he still has not gotten the message that Lelouch is not going to _break_ , Lelouch says precisely, “I want you inside me.”

That gets him the reaction he wants. Suzaku removes his fingers but is up along him again in one smooth movement, Lelouch sinking back down onto their futon under the weight of Suzaku’s kiss. He tastes himself, briefly on his own lips. The heat in Suzaku’s gaze when he draws back to look at him only worsens the growing ache in his lower body, and so to stave it off Lelouch reaches for the rest of Suzaku’s robe, hanging loosely at his waist and elbows, and pushes it from him; when Suzaku lifts his wrists out of the sleeves, the garment pools in a gather of pale cloth against the darker shade of his own, still caught and spread out under him on the mattress. Lelouch trails fingers down Suzaku’s stomach, holds Suzaku’s eyes with his own, watches a muscle move in his jaw and his careful, measured breathing as Lelouch hooks his fingers into the material of Suzaku’s underwear and pulls it slowly off. Suzaku’s gaze breaks away briefly as he shifts to help Lelouch slide the fabric fully off his legs.

Freed, his erection is well-shaped, visibly eager and flushed at its tip. Size is not always a good indicator of their body types, though Suzaku is certainly proportionate enough to typical expectations. At its base – where others, like Lelouch, have straight and fine down – lies the real distinction in short and very soft but obvious curls of hair – the sole physical indicator of one with the capability of knotting consistently during heat, and sometimes even outside of it.

The thought sends another involuntary clench through the muscles between his legs. Lelouch resists the urge to swallow, tearing his eyes away to fix them back on Suzaku’s face. Suzaku, who is fully naked above him now, watching with tenderness and something less readable as Lelouch touches hands to his shoulders, down to his chest, stilling above the warm, rapid beating of his heart – and then brings one hand lower, lower still, into the small amount of slick Suzaku himself has produced before closing moistened fingers around his shaft.

Suzaku closes his eyes. Still focused on his face, Lelouch almost misses the subtle tremble that goes through Suzaku's arms, but not the long, shuddering exhale that escapes him, nor the new drop of wetness against his thumb as he slides it gently against the slit. Lelouch congratulates himself on the small victory and moves his hand once, twice – and something in Suzaku almost snaps. Fingers wrap around his offending wrist, bringing it firmly, though not roughly, back up beside him and pinning it to the mattress, and Suzaku is kissing him again, drawing downwards to nuzzle at his throat and then his collarbone, as the fingers of his other hand reinsert themselves inside him.

Suzaku scissors them, stretching him slowly, and Lelouch’s breath hitches, the full force of his arousal returning when Suzaku moves them against his prostate and circles.

“Do you need another?” Comes a whisper from near his shoulder, hoarse.

 _No,_ Lelouch shakes his head, not trusting his voice to answer while his glands are being stroked like that, so torturously gentle and precise – two has always been enough to prepare himself, so when Suzaku gives him some respite and switches back to small thrusts and scissoring he rasps out, “You can ––”

“...A little more,” Suzaku promises, lips soothing against the plane of his chest, still stretching him before pressing up once more against his glands, gentle but long this time and firm – drawing a soft cry from Lelouch and what is likely more moisture than he has ever thought himself capable of producing outside of heat, seeping down onto Suzaku’s hand. But he is beyond being embarrassed now, flushed as his cheeks have probably remained, the aching having intensified to a pure, single-minded focus inside of him.

Suzaku pulls out, and the hand holding his wrist down releases it, and Lelouch opens his eyes in time to see Suzaku finish coating himself before he is shifting back onto his elbows, the head of his cock now brushing against his entrance. His eyes are very, very bright, and Lelouch slips an arm around his shoulders, his other hand cupping Suzaku’s chin, drawing him down a little more for another kiss – which Suzaku gives to him, sweetly, then begins nosing down his jawline again to the back of his ear, whispering into the crook of his neck. “Let me know if it hurts?”

Lelouch feels his fingers involuntarily tighten their grip on Suzaku’s back, and at his nod, Suzaku begins pushing in, a slow, controlled slide followed by shallow rocking thrusts, incrementally easing the way, a hand drifting down to circle his nipple as he nuzzles and places open-mouthed kisses on Lelouch’s neck.

It doesn’t _hurt,_ in the strict sense of the word, but it is a stretch, the dull, slow burning sensation of being opened and filled like never before, and then he feels it – the fullness of Suzaku slipping all the way inside and stilling, buried at the hilt, and Lelouch is unable to stop the small whimper of surprise, the instinctive clench of his muscles around Suzaku’s length that comes with it. Above him Suzaku’s shoulders have tensed, his breathing harsh, but measured and evening out, and when Lelouch regains enough composure to open his eyes Suzaku is looking at him again with a small, shaky smile, voice warm as he lifts a hand to crest a thumb over Lelouch’s cheek.

“...May I?”

The meaning, of course, is unmistakable. And Lelouch means to nod or say something, but then one of them shifts their hips slightly – Lelouch cannot quite tell who, in that moment – and it has his head tipping back with his assent in a soft moan, as the pressure inside him shifts, too, into something sweeter and more insistent.

Suzaku, fortunately, no longer seems to need any further confirmation. He moves, out and in again, a smooth slide without fully disengaging their bodies, a stretch that leaves Lelouch once again gasping for air. Again, slowly, the stroke of wet skin against skin audible even above their breathing, and Lelouch becomes vaguely aware of his own arousal, trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Suzaku’s stomach as they move, closer, pressing impossibly closer still.

When he does notice, Suzaku’s eyes have fallen shut, too, his brow furrowed as if in concentration or restraint, his breaths shaking. And then the next thrust slides in perfectly, the full, yet sharp press from before, and Lelouch is arching off the mattress with an open-mouthed cry, fingers digging into Suzaku’s back. Suzaku fits a palm behind his shoulder with a small sound of acknowledgement, his other hand reaching to steady him at the hip. When he moves forward again it is a push that sends new and blinding desperation cresting through Lelouch, and it is all Lelouch can do to cling to Suzaku as he gradually increases the pace. He is no longer able to open his eyes, his voice in helpless, broken sobs, lips remaining parted in breathlessness even as Suzaku leans up to kiss him.

“You’re...” Suzaku sounds breathless too – hoarse, appreciative, whispering against his lips, “taking it... really well.”

 _Of course,_ Lelouch’s mind gathers enough consciousness to bite back – it’s not as if he has never stretched himself around a substitute before; did Suzaku really think he would be that delicate? – but this is different from the cold, hard press of metal, Suzaku’s body tuning itself to his, responding a little differently each time to its shudders and helpless spasms and shifts. And it is –– bigger, even if not overwhelmingly so, the strokes thick and warm and steady inside him, and deeper now, deeper than he has previously thought possible, their hipbones grinding together on each thrust. Faster. And he cannot form the words for his response, not when he is struggling this much for breath, not when he is this lost in the haze of sensation and need, not when he is this close to coming, is about to come – not when he is coming, the first spill wringing a raw, low noise from his throat, his body attempting to fold in on itself, the intensity of it unlike anything he can remember.

Distantly he registers the feel of Suzaku burying his face into the curve of his neck, his soft sobs against his skin, his hips pressing home against the contractions of Lelouch’s walls, the last few desperate thrusts before he is shoving in deeply and shuddering too, stilling within him. It is the last push into him, Suzaku’s hand on his hip anchoring them both in place, that wakes and sends another wave cresting through Lelouch before he can even fully recover from the first – and he cries out softly, clamping down tighter around Suzaku even though his release is already spent, wet between them.

When Lelouch’s presence of mind returns, the occasional aftershock still coursing through his limbs in small tremors, Suzaku has shifted back up to his elbows and is threading fingers through his hair, a thumb running over his brow and temple. Lelouch opens his eyes to see his mate smiling down at him, happy and glowing – with what Lelouch decides can only be described as tender pride, written all over his face. They are both still breathing deeply; there is a new wetness now trickling out between his thighs, Suzaku’s cock still pulsing softly inside him.

“...How was that?” Suzaku has, evidently, regained enough composure to make conversation, albeit in a whisper. Lelouch smiles. From the look on Suzaku’s face Lelouch is certain Suzaku already knows full well the answer, though there arrives an affectionate impulse to indulge him regardless.

“...Different,” Lelouch says softly, in Ashigaru, because it certainly was. And then, “Good.”

Suzaku’s smile widens almost impossibly further, his face open and happy in a way that makes Lelouch wonder if all alphas are prone to such pleased displays after successfully bringing a coupling partner to completion. Perhaps it was his brief attempt at the language instead. Maybe both. He is slowly becoming too tired to contemplate much further, content to let Suzaku shift them onto their sides and return his soft, languid kisses as he slips out.

The loss leaves more mess in its wake. Suzaku eventually reaches between them to clean it off gently with the cloth of an earlier discarded underwear. Lelouch lets himself be tended to, feeling boneless and sated and drowsy – and growing drowsier still when Suzaku draws the covers over them, when he presses his face into the crook of Suzaku’s neck and breathes in his scent, when Suzaku leans up to brush a kiss against his forehead, an arm slipping comfortingly around him.

There are things Lelouch knows he is fortunate to have, in spite – or because – of everything else that has happened thus far. This, he thinks – in a small moment of contentment as Suzaku pulls him closer and he slips his own arm around Suzaku’s waist – could indeed have some potential as the first of many more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s now the 5th of December over here, so happy birthday, Lelouch *snerk*
> 
> \- Sorry to disappoint if you were expecting the marathon heat-driven sex! But that is err, coming soon (sorry) with the next chapter. I definitely had to spread it out, or this would’ve become way too long. Also! This chapter marks my first attempt at writing a full-length sex scene from Lelouch's perspective instead - which was both an awkward and...interesting challenge, in itself. Suzaku introspective will be back soon enough :'D
> 
> \- No, Lelouch will not suddenly and magically become a badass wielder of the naginata. Any prolonged use of the weapon still requires stamina. Our dear friend, as we know, has none, and it will stay that way. All the same, after writing this chapter I have become hyper-aware of how things are currently looking almost too perfect for him. The idealism _is_ mostly intentional at this point, since it is the rosy set-up before a fall, which was hinted at in the summary – and Lelouch _will_ fuck up and learn… However, that only happens later on, and I am now very worried that I might be unintentionally dragging him into the dangerous waters of Mary Sue-dom, at least for this chapter and the next. Given the way I set up the marriage and combined the Code Geass plot with Daenerys’ storyline, it really isn’t that difficult a trap to fall into, so in retrospect I should have caught on to this sooner :/  
>  But well, such is the way this story has been planned, and try as I might I have not been able to find a solid way around this potential problem yet, so there’s nothing left to do but press onward until he starts revealing more of his flaws, etc. If you think I’m definitely being paranoid about this, however, PLEASE let me know because I’m sure that would help lessen the worry significantly!
> 
> \- With thanks to emachookie for reminding me about the corny nicknames Dany and Drogo had for each other. I don’t see Suzaku and Lelouch practicing this, so that probably won’t happen here, but I _was_ in the middle of considering separate Ashigaru terms for A/B/O, and those seemed to fit the bill. The sun and moon, uh, “roles”, however, have been deliberately reversed given how the sun is certainly more apt a symbol for omegas. I am not sure if any corniness here was intentional, but I hope it didn’t throw anyone off the piece 8’D
> 
> \- I really have to get cracking on my thesis, so the next update may not be until February or, failing that, late April/early May after I submit the thesis. Work on the chapter will be started in my spare time!
> 
> \- The wedding robes were based on the outfits that CLAMP drew for the boys [here](https://yande.re/post/show/70869) – where Lelouch is actually holding a dragon-headed scepter for no good reason at all, heh.
> 
> \- Hope you enjoyed! Comments and feedback would be lovely, as always!
> 
>  **ETA 21 Dec 2016** :  
> \- UPDATE: As it is with most long fics that get left alone for a long while..... RL got in the way :'( I'm still trying to work out a system where I have the time, space AND mental energy to write the rest of this fic, but it's been difficult given that I'm still adjusting to working life and other big changes in my living situation. THAT SAID, I am still determined to finish this eventually - I just can't give a good gauge of the timeline right now. Now that Geass is attempting to make a comeback though, perhaps it'll bring back some drive and inspiration that I need in order to move things along faster! (But that aside I really am still... not too thrilled about the announcement, because I have no faith in Sunrise / I am setting my expectations extremely low, HA)  
>  _Anyhow_ the point is that I am still alive, and around (as you can see on twitter if you want to chat me up), and I definitely don't plan on abandoning this fic. Thank you for all your comments and support!
> 
> \- The wedding night scene is definitely modeled after that in the first ASoIaF book, not what we got in the TV adaptation. And while Dany is technically an underaged character, it is worth noting that Drogo, in the book, understood "No" _fully well_ and made sure to get a clear "Yes" from Dany before proceeding. Much unlike the show, which has proven time and again that the writer and director are more interested in their male-gaze rape fantasies than anything else, even when it costs them _nothing_ to stay faithful to the source material.
> 
> \- This has turned into a rather salty and bitter update, hasn't it. Sorry about that. Merry Christmas, all! Sorry I don't have another chapter to share this year, but hopefully I can make up for that soon! <3


	3. Part I: Three Visits (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry this update took so, so long but I'm definitely happy to be bringing it to you at last. To cut things short... RL happened, and working life is still pretty tiring and busy right now, so **this is only _half_ of what chapter 3 is supposed to be** , but I decided that posting it would still be better than posting nothing at all for the year. (I also wanted to work/rework a China equivalent into the politics mentioned in the earlier chapters, but it looks like those small edits will have to come later with the second half of chapter 3, haha)
> 
> A big, heartfelt thank you to everyone who commented positively and/or gave me your assurance on things I wasn't too sure of at the end of the previous chapter. Your feedback is what keeps writers like me going in the face of Adult Responsibilities™ and shitty RL, and the response to this fic has been really encouraging given how old and small the fandom is (despite the sequel announcements and everything)! Thank you, thank you.
> 
> I'd like to give huge thanks especially to [rainfall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall) for her tireless support, and to [spirithorse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse), for channeling her liking for this AU into _three_ spin-off ficlets for it, which you can find on her tumblr! I probably wouldn't have made it this far without their encouragement  <3  
> Special mention should also go to _Natsume Yuujinchou_ , a wonderful, _wonderful_ soothing show which preserved my sanity during a couple of my most stressful months this year - although it probably also distracted me a bit too much from this fic for awhile :'D Still, I highly recommend it.
> 
> This update is dedicated to [spirithorse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse) as thanks, and by virtue of it containing more interaction with elk, which she mentioned she would like to see. It was also initially intended as an entry for the last prompt, "Birth", in this year's [Suzalulu Week](http://fyeahsuzalulu.tumblr.com/SLWeek2017) which I ran [on tumblr](http://fyeahsuzalulu.tumblr.com/tagged/suzalulu%20week%202017), although that plan didn't work out very well. We're still happy to accept late submissions up till the end of the year though, so here I am, taking the opportunity to promote it!
> 
> ...Aaand with that I think I've talked enough for now. I hope you'll still find this relatively smaller update worth the wait :)

**Part I: Three Visits (3)**

 

A messenger wakes Suzaku just before dawn. Genbu’s elk has begun fawning, early before the start of the season, and there are complications. The nearest physician has been sent for but will likely be delayed - it is the peak of the birthing season for sheep, and not yet the right time for young deer to be born.

Suzaku dresses quietly, then slips back to kneel by the futon and check on the companion he has left there, wrapped warmly in the sheets. Lelouch wears a peaceful expression, still asleep in a new and foreign place despite the interruption - unlike Suzaku, who by now is accustomed to receiving the occasional discreet report by the doors, and to waking at similar hours while training under Tohdoh.

A gentle hand on Lelouch’s shoulder is enough now to make him stir, however, and Suzaku feels himself smile a little as Lelouch blinks awake, eyes soft and unfocused in the low light of the lamps.

“Hey,” Suzaku greets softly. Nothing will be taking effect on their bodies for another few hours still, but it is best to let Lelouch know. “My father’s elk is having trouble birthing. I’m going to have a look.”

Lelouch shifts up onto an elbow. “...Alright.” Suzaku watches as his mind seems to flicker back into full awareness. “Is that common?”

Suzaku hesitates. “Rare, if I am honest.”

“... You will not find me of much help here,” Lelouch says, soft too in the quiet hour, and then pauses. “Although, if they are anything like horses...”

“Both feet have to come out together, I know.”

Lelouch nods. “If a missing foot won’t be found or won’t come forth, I’ve read that it will help to push the other back in first. If need be, tie them.”

The words make sense. Suzaku smiles in thanks and rises, the urgency returning. “I’ll remember that.”

 

* * *

Outside, the air is quiet as well, tranquil, morning dew beginning to form on the grass and the occasional guards lowering their heads in silent greeting as Suzaku passes their posts.

Before, it was his mother who was the one most looked to for help with the _bakufu_ elk. Tomoe had a great love for the animals, had a way with them that rivaled the skill of a trained physician. As a child Suzaku would sit with her in the fields, watch as she tended to fretful ones in the stalls, listen as she sang to them and told him stories of the wild elk in the mountains where she’d lived, of the few elk in their stables which had been tamed, some by her own hand.

The memories are fainter now, but Suzaku keeps to all that he has learned.

Burai has aged over the years, lived almost as many winters as he has. She is dam to Asa and to a few more of their finest elk, and likely the oldest among their doe to fawn this season - so the earliness of this fawn’s arrival was perhaps to be expected. It will be her last.

“ _Ue-sama._ ” He is greeted as soon as he arrives at the stables. Their chief caretaker Meguro is a small-sized but sturdy woman who looks like she could knock a grown man off his feet with ease, her features currently anxious and pulled tight.

“How long?” Suzaku asks by way of confirmation as he retrieves _tasuki_ for his sleeves from the wall and they make their way down to the larger stalls used for birthing.

“Just under an hour while she’s been like this. We sent for help as soon as we thought something was wrong.”

Suzaku nods. Fawning complications are few among their elk. A labor that is taking longer than usual is one of the first signs something is amiss, and if there has been no progress since they first sent word then the tense atmosphere in the activity of the few stablehands hurrying along the walkways as they approach is understandable, especially considering how the elk in question was the former shogun’s personal mount and favorite.

Meguro halts him as they reach the stall and another stablehand emerges from it to receive them. The stablehand exchanges a wordless glance with her and the chief speaks, hesitation in her voice.

“I ask that you forgive my forthrightness, _ue-sama_ , but if things do not improve in there, it is your humble servant’s suggestion... That is, it is misfortune for the lord shogun to witness a stillbirth - especially so soon before...”

“...I know,” Suzaku says softly, smiles to offer what reassurance he can.

Births among the red elk have long been believed to be either blessing or curse on the fertility of their owners and riders, even more so if they were to be present during the process. Burai may have been his father’s, but her fawns will now be seen as a foretelling of the future of the shogunate line under Genbu’s heir and blood. It is a caution that is still held to by the caretakers and many others in the _bakufu_. He has not forgotten.

They are looking at him apprehensively, further protests falling silent. Suzaku has understood the full weight of the situation from the moment the news was brought to him in his chambers: the discouragement and anxiety that will be brought upon the household, the ill that it will speak of the continuation of his line if he cannot get the fawn out in time. But he understands, too, the burden of being his mother’s child, of being the one to have ridden on and grown up with the doe now laboring in the stall just beyond. And the stablehands know it, too - that it is now his voice and hands that Burai will have the most affinity with, and so Suzaku already has the _tasuki_ in his teeth, is already pulling his sleeves back under the sash and yanking tight the knots.

“Let me do this.”

The chief nods and turns to the other man. “Clear away and give the _shogun_ space.”

Too many people would further stress a laboring doe. When Suzaku steps in there is only one other stablehand kneeling by the elk in the hay, and he moves to let Suzaku take his place. They shift quietly so as not to startle her, and Suzaku is careful to cross into her line of sight before crouching closer.

Burai, lying on her side and breathing harder than usual, swivels ears and eyes toward him. Suzaku murmurs softly to her, passes hands over her neck and side until she responds to his touch, head shifting in the hay and eyes flickering briefly closed.

He feels the renewed ripple of her muscles as she strains. Before his arrival, when the messenger had been at his door, the fear had been that nothing would come. Breech is the worst possible case - and perhaps more legitimate a worry, so early in the season as they are.

It is too soon for his heart to leap, but Suzaku feels it quicken nonetheless when he looks and finds the faint signs of something emerging under the lamplight.

He remembers his mother’s voice, praising and coaxing under sunlight and in the fields, where newborn fawns were stumbling to their feet not long after. He lets the relief into his own voice even as he urges the elk gently on.

“That’s it, good girl, come on.”

If Burai has been at this for an hour then she will be at her limit soon. Suzaku will have to bring the situation under control before the elk’s fatigue settles in and takes over. He runs a hand along her neck, rubs the other in firm, wide strokes up and down her distended belly.

Burai lifts her head to look at him, then lets it fall back to the hay with a low grunt, eyes almost unseeing.

Suzaku breathes deep, thinks of the times he would push his smaller hands into her fur, laughing, of all the times he would wrap sweating palms around her reins as she waited patiently for him to learn the proper posture, balance and discipline required of Ashigaru’s best riders - and whispers, “Please.”

A rough breath like a snort, and then movement, the tendons in her neck showing as she strains again, more powerfully this time.

It is, indeed, just a single foot, gleaming and barely a quarter of the way out.

Instinct is pushing at Suzaku not to wait and see if the other will follow soon after. He motions for wet towels, wipes his hands down to his elbows,  moves down more toward Burai’s rear while keeping a steadying hand on her rump.

“Bring me another _tasuki_ ,” he says to the two onlooking stablehands, before grasping the protruding leg just above the hoof. The long strip of cloth is given to him, and Suzaku swallows and eases the foot slowly back in the way it came.

Burai is quiet as he murmurs soothing encouragement, letting him work, and Suzaku offers up silent thanks to the gods for her trust. The first foot slips back in, his hand inserted to the wrist. Heart pounding, Suzaku takes the loose tasuki in his other hand and reaches in, feeling blindly.

A muzzle - and then the spindly bone of a fawn’s leg, flexed back at its ankle. Back lowered and kneeling in the hay, Suzaku holds his breath and tugs gently. His palm cups the cloven hoof. It is difficult not to sag in relief right then and there - but the work is not over yet.

Suzaku grits his teeth. There is not enough room for him to maneuver and tie the cloth around the two legs without the risk of injuring the fawn’s mother, so he settles for looping it around the feet, aware of every new second that passes.

He finishes the second loop just as Burai shifts her head and pushes. Suzaku pulls.

The legs come forth, the head appearing at the entrance, and Suzaku moves back for more room, glancing upward to check on the elk. She has paused to rest once more, sides heaving.

The normal practice here would be to pull only when the mother strained, but Burai is old and the fawn has been waiting to emerge for longer than it should have.

 _If they are anything like horses..._ Suzaku makes a decision, grabs both front legs, steadies himself, and pulls hard and firm.

Once - and then another time until there is give - and once more, sitting back and using more of his own weight, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining as the whole fawn slides out at last, bloodied sac and all.

“ _Ue-sama -_ ” both stablehands utter softly almost at the same time, in their voices notes of awe mingled with lingering concern.

Suzaku holds up a hand to bid them wait, his own heart in his throat and a bead of sweat snaking its way down near his ear as he watches the unmoving form in the hay and its mother.

If the old elk is too tired to move they will have to clean the fawn themselves, hope that they are not too late, that they can somehow get it breathing --

Burai raises her head. With effort and a long grunt, the elk slowly gets to her feet and turns to begin nosing at the bundle below her. She licks - gingerly at first and then gradually with vigor, cleaning membrane off its nose and face until its head moves together with the force of her tongue.

There is nothing, not even when she moves on to clean the rest of the body.

And then a twitch, and a shudder through the smaller creature as its chest flutters to life and begins heaving rapidly - and Suzaku feels a breath he does not remember holding rush out of him, in something close to a laugh.

The stablehands are smiling too, from behind him, and Suzaku exchanges his own smile and a nod with Meguro when he meets her eyes over the stall door.

Outside, light has already begun to paint the sky.

Suzaku wipes his hands off on more of the towels, and then makes a soft request.

“Send for the Prince. I think he might like to see this.”

 

* * *

 

The new fawn is male - that much has been determined now - alert and bright-eyed much to the relief of all who were present for the birth. Now Burai is nosing the smaller elk firmly up by his belly, and Suzaku folds arms over the stall door and watches quietly from the outside as Lelouch arrives to stand by him, the caretakers and servants having moved off to tend to their other duties after setting down fresh bedding.

To witness a newborn learn to stand and walk has always been heartwarming to Suzaku, and Lelouch smiles too as the fawn responds to Burai’s urging and begins struggling to bring his feet under him.

“He looks healthy.”

A small miracle, considering how this fawn has been born earlier than all the rest. _He lives_ , Suzaku thinks, and then says softly, “With thanks to you.”

Lelouch hums. “A good guess, nothing more.” His eyes are soft when he turns to Suzaku. “I was not the one to pull him from his mother’s womb.”

“Still,” Suzaku lets his gaze drift back to the inside of the stall, where the fawn’s front legs have given out, splayed before him - but he is trying again, determined. “His name is yours to give, at least.” One leg up - then the next, and then slowly, wobbling, the hinds. “And if you wish he will be yours to ride when he comes of age. It’s more pleasant than a horse’s back,” Suzaku smiles, “if you are accustomed.”

“Alright,” Lelouch lets out a soft laugh, even as the fawn’s spindly legs buckle underneath him once more.

With a whuff of air Burai again nudges the younger elk up with her nose, ears flicking patiently, this time supporting him briefly with a muzzle as he struggles upward. The word comes quietly on Lelouch’s breath as the attempt at last succeeds and the fawn is standing, steadying himself on four trembling feet.

“Gawain.”

A Britannian name, the sound of it smooth on Lelouch’s lips and tongue.

“The first of Britannia’s winged steeds,” Lelouch says, as the fawn takes his first shaking step forward, and then another, “in the legends.”

Suzaku feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “This is an elk.”

“The _shogun_ objects?” Lelouch smirks back, clearly having caught the light amusement in Suzaku’s voice.

“...No,” Suzaku admits to the teasing with another smile. There is at times a fondness for grand names among Westerosi - particularly Britannians - that he recognizes, and from the sound of it, it is indeed a big name for one still so small - though perhaps not in time to come, especially when this fawn’s antlers will grow in, and when he is the first elk to belong to the Dragon Prince.

“It’ll be a fitting name for one borne by Burai,” he says, watching as the doe touches noses with her young and managing to push down a memory of his father’s voice, feeling his smile turn somewhat wry. “Besides - a _shogun_ does not easily go back on their word.”

“...Well,” Lelouch says softly, as Gawain with faltering steps and more gentle nudging from his mother’s snout makes his way to her underside. “I will be more than happy to accept him. Thank you.”

The fawn finds what he is looking for and begins to suckle, in strong, hungry pulls. It is a comforting sign after the morning’s small ordeal, and when Suzaku glances over to find Lelouch looking serenely upon them, Lelouch, too, meets his gaze only half a moment later.

The dark fan of lashes against his skin when he blinks is difficult not to admire. A wordless smile passes between them, and Suzaku would have leaned the few inches forward and kissed him, then, would have found the privacy sufficient for a small, shared moment alone - if not for the scent that he catches, milky sweet and pleasant, still faint but unmistakable in the way his whole body responds, the need waking and stirring within him, a desire to draw closer to Lelouch for more.

Suzaku pulls slowly away instead, swallowing around sudden dryness. “...It might be time.”

A little faster than expected, though such things are not uncommon. Lelouch reacts with calm, the hand drifting half-consciously toward the skin on his neck behind his ear the only indication that he had perhaps not realized it himself.

“Have Sayoko escort you on ahead,” Suzaku hears himself say, aware that he has tightened his grip slightly on the stall door. “I’ll finish cleaning up here and be with you in a bit.”

Lelouch draws back with a nod, quiet as the seriousness of the moment impresses itself on them both.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

The beginning of heat is a subtle climb, rarely a sudden flood whether or not it has been successfully suppressed. Suzaku feels it building within him regardless - in the warmth at his center that will not dissipate even as he dips himself into the cold bath prepared for them in the chambers, in the growing ache as he lets water wash over his eyes and hair. In the slight shiver that runs through him whenever he catches hints of Lelouch’s own onsetting heat - Lelouch, who would also have used a cold bath to manage it and prepare, Lelouch who will be ready and waiting for him in the next room.

The room has been readied for them too, Suzaku finds as he enters quietly, heartbeat already quickening a little under his skin. There are towels set to the side, tall flasks of water for drinking and countering the warmth in their bodies should it get too uncomfortable. Servants and guards are already absent from their quarters, where their coming together will be protected and where they will be granted privacy for as long as it is needed.

Unlike the last evening Lelouch is already curled loosely on the futon, a fresh set of robes loose too around his shoulders, his form restful but clearly awake, from the way his eyes open and drift to Suzaku at the sound of the door sliding shut.

Lelouch says nothing, the soft, honeyed milk scent of an omega in heat stronger now and saying it all, coiled with something else that reminds Suzaku somewhat of lavender flowers and grass, distinctly Lelouch’s and the most comforting, welcoming smell Suzaku knows in that moment as it permeates the room.

Suzaku feels himself pause, even as his pulse does not, the gravity of everything settling on him once more with finality.

There is a last rite to be performed here, he recalls being taught upon coming of age - more of a formality and customary practice, but not one entirely without function. A final check for permission, an act of reverence for what a potential father is about to receive from a mate, a way to honor the right to refuse if a mate for any reason wanted to go through a heat alone. He wonders briefly if Lelouch has been advised on this as well, if Lelouch will know the ways to respond regardless -- realizes he has neglected to check how often it is even practiced among the clan now, especially if the desire between both mates is obvious.

Suzaku decides he will err on the side of caution.

He kneels by Lelouch’s feet, bends in an approximation of a bow, and, slowly, cups an ankle and presses his lips to the warming skin in a soft kiss.

Lelouch does not let his knees part slowly in welcome, but neither does he draw them in toward himself and shy away. Instead he is pushing himself up onto an elbow, pupils already dilated from the beginnings of heat and the words low and curious, “What are you doing?”

Ah. So he does not know.

Suzaku explains softly, “We do not commence an act of bonding in full heat unless we are accepted at the feet of the one who is likely to bear a child from it.” He pauses and feels himself give Lelouch a small smile. “That is what I have been told, at least.”

So he continues without waiting for further response, this time pressing his shoulders to the ground in a reprise of what they did with the townsfolk the day before.

“ _Taiyoushi._ ” _Sun-child, bearer of new life --_ And Suzaku utters the request which he knows is the same in the words of his clan as it is in the common tongue: “If you will allow me - then with this, please entrust yourself to me - and let me likewise entrust myself to you, both now and for all time hereafter.”

He raises his head at Lelouch’s movement and finds him sitting up further, enough to catch his gaze at the same level. “You already have my answer,” Lelouch says, with the same softness that is in his smile, “from half a moon ago.”

Suzaku feels himself smile in turn. It is as clear an approval as any, so when Lelouch lowers himself back onto the bedding Suzaku says nothing more, and climbs carefully to his side.

Lelouch goes quiet too, turning slowly toward him as Suzaku’s knee presses onto the mattress, eyes fever-bright and watching him. From above him Suzaku holds his gaze, lowers himself till their faces are almost touching, till the scents of both their needs are twining together in his senses and his heart is pounding in his ears, the weight of what they are about to do - what they need to do - heavy between them.

Lelouch is trembling faintly when their eyes close and their lips finally touch in a slow kiss - very, very slow.

Suzaku’s own breath trembles, when he does draw it, the feel of Lelouch already sending want and need curling with renewed insistence through his lower half and limbs. Lelouch’s mouth parts against his. Their tongues meet, in a warm, wet slide that unfurls something wound tight at his center into a shiver. It is in the same moment that something in Lelouch seems to break, too, and he is arching up into Suzaku with the sound of a whimper or whine hitching at the back of his throat, arms winding around him as he presses back with new fervor.

Suzaku lets Lelouch roll them onto their sides, Lelouch’s hands sliding down his back and tugging at his sash, even as they continue kissing. This time Lelouch successfully pulls it free, but the actions are frantic - agitated, almost. There is desperation and perhaps something else, Lelouch’s breaths coming shorter against his mouth.

In truth it frightens Suzaku, too - that this is happening, the intensity of a heat that is coming upon his body unbridled for the first time in his life. It will be new for them both, like never before - though perhaps especially for Lelouch, untouched and inexperienced with a lover until only a night ago. Instinct is already clawing at him, demanding relief and that he heed nothing else - would be doing the same in Lelouch - but Suzaku does not want to risk hurting his mate in blind frenzy, little though Lelouch may mind in their current state.

He slows their pace, tries to soothe despite his own trembling - with long, deliberate strokes against Lelouch’s tongue, slipping his hand into Lelouch’s yukata and spreading it over fever-warmed skin, gently parting and pushing the already loosened cloth from him.

The effect is almost immediately apparent, Lelouch responding to his touch by releasing a soft, submissive sound into his mouth and then going pliant in his arms, a simple display of trust and surrender - and at once it feels as if something warm and aching has taken hold of Suzaku’s heart and squeezed it gently.

It is empowering, and indeed terrifying at the same time, even though there is no question now that they will get through it. It makes him want to take as much time and care as they can, to open Lelouch slowly just like the night before until he forgets to think, not simply because of their heat. To draw out Lelouch’s relief even as he takes his own.

Suzaku swallows and rubs circles into Lelouch’s back, shifts to trail his lips down Lelouch’s neck and taste. It is warm and inviting with the right hint of sweetness on his tongue, Lelouch’s breath shuddering when he grazes lightly with his teeth and follows the spreading flush on his skin to the small pink of his nipples, already firm and darkened, perhaps more so than they were under the lamplight hours ago.

The noise Lelouch makes when Suzaku closes his mouth over one of them is low and breathless, his heartbeat flaring underneath his skin - enough that Suzaku can feel it against his lips. Immediately the scent becomes stronger, wetter, grows wetter still with each lick of Suzaku’s tongue. Suzaku drinks it in, sucks lightly on the small nub, and a full-bodied shudder goes through Lelouch, his panting sharp and thin, the fingers of one hand curling themselves into Suzaku’s shoulder.

Lelouch was already sensitive before; in heat, everything is only magnified. Suzaku opens his eyes briefly and finds Lelouch with his face flushed and almost fully turned into the pillows, his own eyes sealed shut, already as affected as he looked near the peak of his pleasure the night before.

He wonders for a moment if it is possible that Lelouch will come just like this, while they are in this state, savors the sweet outpouring of Lelouch’s need for it into his senses when he moves to the other nipple, sucking firmer. It is highly possible that Lelouch will come. He can smell its inevitable approach, feel it in the way Lelouch is curling around him with a gasping cry, and then another, hips rocking unconsciously against him. Suzaku needs more of it himself, wants to wrap himself in scent and sound where he feels safe, wanted, _needed,_ both body and soul.

But not this way, where he knows it will not be enough to satiate the true need of an omega’s body in heat.

“S-Suzaku,” Lelouch is hoarse, pleading. “Suzaku.” Hands in his hair now, gently tugging him upwards. Suzaku relents, moving back up to kiss him, and Lelouch lets another sweet, aching sound into his mouth as Suzaku pulls the rest of his robe off him and strokes a hand soothingly down his side, to his rear.

Suzaku does not have to touch him there to know that he is already soaked, wet and open, body driven by the innermost impulse that takes hold of every one of them two, three times a year, sometimes even more. It sends a painful throb through his groin all the same when his hand meets with dampness - and elsewhere Suzaku feels more of his own slick, too, leaking out between his thighs. Lelouch groans when Suzaku cups him through the fabric, smoothing a moistened palm against his erection.

“Tell me if you ever need me to stop,” Suzaku hears himself murmuring as he slips the last piece of cloth down and off Lelouch.

“... I will,” Lelouch says, breathless as Suzaku dips fingers into the wetness between his legs. “Keep... -” a choked-off sound as Suzaku wraps a hand around his cock - swollen and flushed and like warm silk in his palm. “-Keep going.”

Suzaku strokes his length, circles his thumb around the head and then rubs it against the underside, where the base of the head meets the shaft and where he knows it is deeply pleasurable for most, including himself. And Lelouch is no exception, judging from their first night together and from the way his body now curves forward, a sound close to a howl falling helpless from his lips. Suzaku feels something primal clenching in his abdomen in response, his own arousal already heavy between his legs and protesting the agony of delay.

He sits up and maneuvers them gently till Lelouch is lying on his back again, whimpering softly as Suzaku settles between his legs and circles the sweet spot once more with his thumb, Lelouch’s hips lifting slightly into the stimulation and more pre-come leaking out to cover his tip.

There is no small amount of slick, too, that Suzaku can now see - so much of it, already smeared on the sheets and spreading easily once more onto his fingers before he touches them to Lelouch’s entrance - pink and furling eagerly in a slow throb while Lelouch lets out a soft, desperate noise.

With his body this ready, Lelouch will not need much preparation. Swallowing, Suzaku eases two fingers into him, his other hand on one of Lelouch’s spread knees, steadying them both. It opens for him with little resistance, hot and tight and yet yielding just enough, Lelouch’s breaths in long, shuddering exhales. When Suzaku brushes Lelouch’s glands with his fingertips Lelouch’s mouth falls open with a low sob, his hips moving down on Suzaku’s hand and seeking further contact.

The walls relax further around his fingers but become almost impossibly hotter, and Suzaku can hear his own breath shaking, the blood roaring in his ears, even as he stretches Lelouch and thrusts, rubbing and circling against the same place until his hand is almost wet to the wrist and Lelouch’s hips are lifting and Lelouch is keening, mouth open and gasping and eyes shut to all else. His hands are twisted into the sheets, legs shivering, the line of his neck exposed with his head fallen back.

He looks fine-boned, delicate - spread bare and more than ready with his control long lost and his entrance swollen and so very, very wet - and it is the most breathtaking sight that has ever been before Suzaku, the fact that this intense, beautiful, strong-willed prince would give himself over to him to be entirely unraveled like this.

He is almost reluctant to remove his fingers, to move away briefly to shrug off his own clothing, but it is worth it when he meets Lelouch again in a kiss, his cock now freed and sliding against Lelouch’s in the abundance of slick. Suzaku feels a helpless sound of relief escape himself, Lelouch’s answering one following soon after. This time he will not need his hands to prepare, his hips slipping instinctively downward to coat himself further, every movement in their combined wetness pleasuring his skin and seemingly turning his cock even more sensitive, more eager than he has ever thought possible.

He rubs slowly against Lelouch’s entrance and Lelouch whimpers. The sound turns into a whine when Suzaku presses the head of his penis to the same place, satisfying a primal urge to let it feel the weight of his desire, and feeling it almost flutter in answer against him. It causes Suzaku’s breath to leave him in a hoarse exhale, something in his throat closing tight as he looks down at Lelouch, lifts a hand to brush the hair tenderly from Lelouch’s face and eyes, which Lelouch still has not dared to open.

And then he is letting himself sink in - at long last -- heart thundering almost painfully in his chest.

It is smooth, but tight - perhaps somehow even tighter than it felt the night before - and slow - and Suzaku feels himself half-choke, all thought deserting him as he slips in, inch by agonizing inch. Lelouch shakes beneath him, his hands clutching at Suzaku’s shoulders and a series of short, trembling cries helpless in between his gasps as he is newly opened and entered with what his body seeks, walls closing just as helplessly around Suzaku with each push forward, taking him further in.

The flood of sensation is almost too much to bear, the slow clench and release as Lelouch’s body yields to him, and the heat is maddening, so much so that Suzaku’s vision is losing focus, the muscles in his arms threatening to give way. He cannot help but drop his forehead, to the space between Lelouch’s neck and collarbone, burying his face there and into the wonderful, enveloping scent as Lelouch continues to shake.

When at last he is fully in and has steadied himself enough to check on his mate, breaths still trembling and uneven, Lelouch’s eyes have reopened too, the violet in them deep and bright and fevered, his lips half-parted and pale chest heaving as he slides a hand into the hair at the back of Suzaku’s neck, pulling him closer.

“... Move,” Lelouch manages to whisper, before another shudder takes his body, another wave of need. “-oh... gods, m--”

Suzaku does not need to be told twice, and reacts on his next breath before Lelouch can finish, unsure which of them sobs louder at the immediate give and take of relief.

It feels incredible, perfect - like it was made for him, made for this - the immense pleasure of soft, wet heat, every thrust gliding in and out with ease. The soft cries that fall from Lelouch’s mouth as he takes each one, his cock heavy too and pulsing once, twice between them as they move. Suzaku has taken partners in heat to his bed before, but never without being on strong suppressants - and never has anything felt this intense, not in his memory.

Never could anything have prepared him, either, for the moment on his next thrust when the widest part of his cock’s head catches neatly on the ridge of glands on Lelouch’s front wall - for the cry that it tears from Lelouch’s throat, raw, pleading as his body wrenches off the mattress, arms grasping. Suzaku barely manages to shift his weight onto one elbow without slipping, reaching half-blind to hold Lelouch in place where he wants it, his heart feeling like it is about to split open when Lelouch cries out again, voice pure and broken as Suzaku thrusts back into him - and again, and again.

The need - to answer, to push deeper, firmer, and give Lelouch’s body the full relief it also needs - is heavy, unbearably insistent - and renewed like a tide, with each slip into Lelouch that sends white behind Suzaku’s eyelids and sharp pleasure flaring from his center to the rest of his being. It takes two, maybe three more strokes before Lelouch is coming, with a great sob as the tension in him breaks, spilling into long shudders and wetness between them as he holds on to Suzaku and as Suzaku rocks them through it, Lelouch’s gasps ragged in his ear.

He presses his own wordless response into Lelouch’s neck, unable to open his eyes as he lets his hips continue to move against -- into the pull of his contracting walls, where the clamping would ordinarily have been more than enough to carry him over the edge as well. Ordinarily, but not here - where despite the overwhelming sensation he can feel now that it will be awhile yet before his own completion, and it becomes clear that his body is preparing itself, for the release that they will both need, for the endurance to last at least one other round before he knots.

Lelouch is still shaking under him, breaths longer now though they are wavering, interrupted by some of Suzaku’s thrusts that draw small involuntary noises from him, his body jerking. Between them Suzaku registers the feel of Lelouch’s cock, still twitching, evidence of his own body’s easily renewed demand during heat.

He manages to even his breathing, harsh though it remains as he takes Lelouch slower, deeper. Opens his eyes. Lelouch meets his gaze, his own eyelids lifting when he feels Suzaku shifting to look upon him. He looks just as flushed and helpless as Suzaku feels, the color rich on fair skin, and for a few moments they are breathing together with no words, and only sensation between them. Eventually Suzaku dips his head to kiss him, and finds the voice necessary to whisper against his lips.

“Do you... -do you think you can turn around for me?”

A request, for there is no point in urging Lelouch into a position he may not be able to hold up in his state.

After a moment Lelouch nods, slowly, his limbs tensing as he tests them. He swallows as he tries to get up, still trembling a little, and Suzaku slips out and moves back to give him room, heart aching as Lelouch willingly turns on arms and knees to present his back to him, his breath in slow shudders.

His head is dipped low between his shoulders, the back of his neck exposed, vulnerable. To offer one’s neck in this way is submission and supplication in its purest form, especially so among the clan, perhaps even more than it would be in the west - and the sight alone is enough to arrest Suzaku for another full moment, desire to give, love and protect seizing him almost painfully together with the need to be back inside Lelouch, to knot and fill him and take and take even as he gives. It sears through him, bright and contradicting in how he is rendered briefly unable to move from the force of it, not expecting the breath to be torn from him the way it is.

But he has little time after to dwell on the possible baseness of his reaction, his body now moving almost of its own accord to mouth his way in slow kisses down Lelouch’s spine, from the center of his bared neck to the pale expanse of his back, porcelain and completely unmarred. Gods, he is beautiful. So beautiful. Only at Lelouch’s answering murmur does he realize he may have spoken the words aloud.

He nuzzles against Lelouch’s skin, wants to write into it with his breath and mouth, kissing until he reaches his rear, the center between Lelouch’s thighs streaked with slick and where the scent is just as prominent - sweet and clean and yet sending the need reverberating through him until it is difficult to think of anything else.

Suzaku inhales deeply, presses his lips to the wetness trickling down the inside of Lelouch’s thigh. It is clear, like its scent and the morning air. Lelouch’s legs tremble as he licks, wanting to lap the slick slowly up to Lelouch’s slit, in between cheeks that he will part.

“Don’t-” Lelouch’s voice comes strained, as the trembling worsens, and Suzaku pauses to realize Lelouch is shaking on his arms as well, head still down and eyes shut. “I can’t-- I won’t be able to hold.”

“Okay,” Suzaku whispers, half-berating himself for failing to keep enough attention on Lelouch’s endurance. He moves back up over Lelouch, placing a kiss on Lelouch’s left shoulder as he aligns himself. “It’s okay.”

This time it is even easier, Lelouch opening for him in a sweet, wet slide, their bodies pushing together as the relief washes up into Suzaku and a soft moan escapes Lelouch. This way he can hold Lelouch’s body flush against his, feel each shiver and the tension undulating in Lelouch at each thrust inside him, hot and raw and bright. It is good, much too good, and Suzaku feels himself already moving faster, deeper, the cries tumbling from Lelouch’s mouth at each push.

Harder. Suzaku presses ragged breaths to the base of Lelouch’s neck and surges forward, wanting every flex and spasm, every assent that Lelouch’s body gives to him as it reshapes itself against him. Every thick, wet stroke inside Lelouch that has Lelouch now wracked with wailing sobs, mouth slack and his chest held up by little more than the grip of Suzaku’s arm.

There is a brief moment of recognition that Lelouch is about to come, his cries sharpening, frantic, the feel of his heartbeat hammering and something welling in him and on the edge, pressed against each other as they are. The moment when it happens is bright and shuddering, Lelouch buckling at the elbows as it breaks and he is flooded with the force of it, taken down and further forward with Suzaku’s hand on his chest the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely. Suzaku’s teeth are clenching and the angle is shifting, letting him breach impossibly deeper still and oh gods. _Oh_. Suzaku cannot see. He needs his hold on Lelouch to ground himself, his forehead pressed between Lelouch’s shoulder blades as his own back bows and he comes at last, at last, the orgasm rushing hard enough through him that he cannot remember if he even breathes, for those long few moments.

On the final surges of it he feels the knot begin, a new ache that digs deep into his abdomen and then seizes his cock from its base to its tip in a long, pulsing pull - and then another, and another - nothing like how it was before, and Suzaku can only gulp with a helpless whimper, holding blindly on to Lelouch as it starts filling him.

Beneath him Lelouch lets out a soft, small noise at the feel of it, walls closing in around him even as he accommodates. It is the gentle clenching around his forming knot that sends another tugging wave through Suzaku, a torrent of warmth as his heart is pulled open and the base of his cock swells achingly to its fullest. Suzaku muffles a thin sound from his throat into Lelouch’s skin, Lelouch’s own voice giving way to a broken sob, whimpering and his body still clutching him in slow, answering throbs as it stretches to take the full width of it, Suzaku’s hips rocking incrementally until they can move no further, go no deeper, until he is filling up Lelouch as much as he can, still spilling inside of him.

It is altogether too much, and difficult to tell whose limbs give out first from under them, Suzaku slipping and barely adjusting his hold in time to keep from collapsing on top of Lelouch. With what presence of mind he has left he lowers them carefully onto the bedding, coaxes Lelouch onto their sides, where his chest is pressed against Lelouch’s back and where they will be more comfortable.

Lelouch is still shivering in his arms, mouth open in soft gasps at the pleasure and relief brought by the knot inside of him, now binding them together and making withdrawal physically impossible until it subsides in another hour or two.

With a kiss to his hair Suzaku slips a hand to Lelouch’s lower abdomen to palm it in slow circles, a gentle and firm, coaxing motion against the place that is receiving its fill. _There --_ and it proves enough, Lelouch arching back into him with a small noise of surprise and his climax beginning anew against the slowing pulse of Suzaku’s release.

This time only a few more new drops of wetness from Lelouch’s cock brush the back of Suzaku’s hand, the rest of it already smeared and drying on Lelouch’s front from earlier. But Lelouch’s body is clenching rhythmically around him and Suzaku cannot help the soft sound he makes in response, both of them shuddering as Lelouch reaches blindly to cover Suzaku’s hand on his abdomen, grasping tight as if to pull him closer still when they are already as close and connected as they can possibly be. Suzaku shifts his hips all the same, thrusting within what little room he has left, and Lelouch lets out a feeble cry, shaking as the last waves of it take him.

At one point it occurs to Suzaku that he should reach for a towel to rub them down where he can, but it is difficult to move; his limbs are heavy and he can feel Lelouch’s consciousness already slipping against him. Lelouch is rightfully exhausted.

They will simply have to bathe again, later. Suzaku closes his eyes, breathing into Lelouch’s neck and hair - and lets himself follow, drifting into dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the real world there are studies of pre-modern societies which had more egalitarian gender relations, and it's suggested that in some of these societies this egalitarianism was in part due to a certain reverence and respect that people had for a woman's ability to bear children. The content from my sociology classes was the inspiration for quite a bit of what you saw here - I wanted to create a world that would be kinder to people with troublesome omega biology, and if that lands me with a romanticized fictional equivalent of Japan, well... I guess I can live with it ;)
> 
> There'll be a second half to the bonding, so they're not done with all the sex yet! Ha. The next half of this chapter will probably be just as if not slightly longer, and will also contain more world-building. I hope that's something to look forward to!  
> I'm working on changing certain aspects of my life so that I'll have more time to wind down, rest my mind, and write, but those changes won't happen till later next year if they happen at all, so I can't say anymore when the next update will be... though I'll certainly still try to write more in the meantime!
> 
> Thank you for reading, especially if you're still following this fic after all this time <3  
> Comments always bring me joy and please know that I read them all, even though it might take me awhile to respond!


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